

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

ChapTSZsCopyright No. 

ShelL.T__^ &C 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


































































































































































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It was Sabbath, and an undisturbed quiet rested upon the beautiful morning.” 

See Page 227 




A CHILD or NATURE 


BY 



ABNER THORP, M. D. 



CINCINNATI : CURTS & JENNINGS 
NEW YORK : EATON & MAINS 


1896 


COPYRIGHT 

BY CURTS & JENNINGS, 
1S96. 


K.i.jC. Zuy**'- /jo 


CONTENTS 




CHAPTER I. Pa qe. 

An Afternoon Ramble, 7 

CHAPTER II. 

On the Porch, 20 

CHAPTER III. 

In the Garden, 32 

CHAPTER IV. 

Charley Ludlow, 42 

CHAPTER V. 

A Town Meeting, 54 

CHAPTER VI. 

Janie and Stella, 66 

CHAPTER VII. 


Conclusions Reached, 


3 


78 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VIII. PAOE . 

A New Friend, 89 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Wages of Sin, 106 

CHAPTER X. 

Wedded, 116 

CHAPTER XI. 

On the Frontier, 125 

CHAPTER XII. 

Widowed, 139 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Reconciliation, 149 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Weary at Rest, 161 

CHAPTER XV. 

Lakeside, 171 

CHAPTER XVI. 


An Eventful Day, 


. 181 


CONTENTS. 


5 


Doubts Removed, . . 

CHAPTER XVII. PAOE 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Stella’s Struggle, . . 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Among the Islands, . 



CHAPTER XX. 

The Sabbath, . . . 

.227 


CHAPTER XXI. 

At Home 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page. 

It was Sabbath, and an undisturbed quiet rested upon the 
beautiful morning, Frontispiece. 

Their hands met, and he seemed to cling to Janie, 17 

Moral purity can not live amid such surroundings. Evil 
only can thrive, 107 

Now THE THREE WERE, AS USUAL, ON THE PORCH TOGETHER, . . . 165 

The little steamer was now lying at the dock, tossing and 


CHAFING AT ITS FASTENINGS 

6 


218 



R Child of Nature. 

CHAPTER I. 

An Afternoon Ramble. 

S TELLA BRADLEY and Janie Allen were slowly walking 
along an imperfect pathway, on the side of a country 
road, leading down a hill toward the river. Their arms 
were clinging to each other’s waists, like tendrils closely 
binding a friendship that had known no interruption since 
childhood. The lovely springtime had drawn them out into 
the sunlight and temperate air, and their walk was aimless, 
save for the companionship and beauty of fair nature just 
aroused from winter’s lethargic slumber. A soft carpet of 
tender green was beneath their feet ; newly-clothed trees and 
bushes swayed to a gentle breeze, that played about their 
faces like kisses warm and loving; the air was redolent with 
odor and rhythmic with the song of birds. An unspeakable 
happiness filled Janie’s heart, that her lips could not express. 

Her young womanhood blended with the pastoral scene, until 

7 


8 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


she seemed a part of nature as were the flocks quietly graz - 
ing before her lingering gaze. 

The two had walked silently for a while, their arms thus 
clinging to each other with unyielding embrace. Stella 
seldom interrupted Janie’s silent moods when thus rambling 
together, knowing that her wandering thoughts were adrift 
in pleasing reverie. They had passed through girlish ways? 
and had entered the mysterious realm of womanhood to- 
gether, with its burden of strange longings and emotions. 
They were in perfect confidence, and, hitherto, had lived in 
an unshaken faith of each other. 

On this beautiful afternoon, in the grateful warmth of the 
fragrant air and the sunshine of friendship, Janie seemed 
more than ever speechless in the presence of the unsolved 
mystery of the miracle of spring. She was deeply, silently 
affected. Her delicate nature framed pictures everywhere, 
as her eyes wandered into the sky above and among the for- 
ests and meadows and hills around. These pictures were 
luminous with a wondrous beauty that, in the distant, dim 
perspective, seemed to open into eternity. They were God’s 
pictures, to her delicate organization, hung on every hill and 
wood. They could not be pointed out to Stella; for they 
seemed to dissolve in the effort of word analysis, and would 
strangely vanish. They were beheld through the vision of 
the soul, and were felt more than beheld ; and silence seemed 
to weave a bewildering beauty about them, that could have 
no part in uttered thoughts. Janie was unusually silent 
to-day, and Stella, knowing nothing of her friend’s unspeak- 
able pleasure, grew wearied of the silence. There was a 
strange feeling of unrest and impatience disturbing her 


AN AFTERNOON RAMBLE. 


9 


hitherto kindly feeling for Janie ; and its presence rested 
now 'like a shadow upon her unwearied friendship. They 
continued their silent walk thus held in the grasp of thoughts 
that neither could explain to the other. 

Every now and then Janie would stop to pluck a golden 
dandelion that bloomed along the pathway; and now she 
had a handful of rich, exuberant color, that divided her 
attention with the pictures of the broad landscape. As they 
neared the foot of the hill, she stopped suddenly, and on one 
knee began to remove a few withered leaves, and then a little 
clod that rested on a tender plant just peering from the earth 
beneath. 

“ O Stella!” she exclaimed, “do look at this little strug- 
gling plant ! Beautiful thing ! it has awaked from sleep, and 
is striving to lift its head to a gaze of lovely nature. Are 
you cold in your bed of earth, you precious little mystery?” 
she said, now talking to it as if to a friend that could hear 
her words. “ You want to enjoy the sunlight and warmth, I 
know. You shall!” she continued, clearing leaves and earth 
from around it. “ There ; how tender and delicate — and how 
strange ! O, tell me, little plant, the mystery of your sleep 
and resurrection ! My heart wants to know it all ; tell me, 
you precious little thing !” and then, after a pause, she added 
with a sober face: “ You, too, are silent. Nothing will tell 
me the secret. But no matter ; I can wait, and believe, and 
trust,” she said, her face seeming to light up in her own self- 
satisfying consolation. 

“What in the world are you talking about, Janie?” 
asked Stella, moved by the feeling of impatience that had so 
strangely intruded upon her warm affection, always before so 


10 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


indulgent. “ You have a strange way about you sometimes 
that I can not understand !” she added sharply. 

“Do you think so?” asked Janie, with a surprised look. 

“I sometimes think your mind wanders,” Stella replied, 
with some hesitation ; for she would not wound Janie’s sen- 
sibilities, and yet could not keep back the thought which she 
knew to be harsh. 

Janie was thoughtful for a few moments, and then wound 
her arms, as before, about Stella’s waist, and together they 
continued their walk down the lane, silently. If touched by 
Stella’s words, she did not show it. Indeed it could not 
have been expected of her; for she was trustful and loving 
and forgiving. Presently they entered upon the dusty high- 
way, and, crossing it, they pushed aside the bushes that 
fringed a narrow strip of w T oods that skirted the river bank. 
The water of the little stream lay in pools, or flowed in tiny 
streams among the rocks, or over gravelly beds. The usual 
spring freshets had not yet appeared to swell the river into a 
flood extending over the surrounding low lands, as some- 
times happened. Spring, this year, had come with balmy 
breath rather than in tearful showers; and nature had 
wreathed its beautiful face in smilps. Janie’s heart re- 
sponded with quickened beats and strange emotions to the 
quiet, peaceful loveliness that appeared to awake nature and 
arouse it from gentle slumber, the babbling water at her 
feet, like tender musical notes, rippling among the rounded 
stones to add its spell to the awakening. 

They tossed stones into the little pools, and watched the 
wavelets growing into larger and still larger circles until 
broken and lost upon the shores that rimmed them about. 


AN AFTERNOON RAMBLE. 


11 


They dipped their little hands into the transparent water, to 
catch the darting minnows that turned their silvery sides to 
the sunlight, as if in play. They climbed out to the rocky 
bed of the stream on stepping-stones, and blithely enjoyed 
the pastimes so suggestive to every one beside a shallow 
stream. 

At length, weary of such sport, they sat down on a mossy 
bank, in a rambling talk of innocence. But Janie was not 
yet diverted from the enthrallment of beautiful nature. It 
was natural to her that, when beneath the canopy of the sky 
and in the presence of broad fields and wooded clumps, she 
should lose herself irresistibly in dreamy contemplation. 
So now the spell came back to her, inspired by a little tender 
tuft drooping from an oak-branch within her reach. She sprang 
to her feet as her eyes caught the object, and, with an endear- 
ing expression, plucked the tender branch, that was of a light 
yellowish green, blended with shades of umber, and caress- 
ingly laid it in her soft palm, and smiled upon it as she 
would have done upon a new-fledged soul lying helplessly in 
her arms. It was a beautiful smile, reflected from a pure heart, 
that felt the impress of the great, pulseless heart of nature. 

“ O, Stella !” she again exclaimed, “ was ever anything so 
lovely?” and, with a lingering gaze into her friend’s face, 
besought her interest in the velvety spray she stretched 
toward her in her open palm. “ See the unformed leaves 
just looking through the half-open bud, that in a few days 
will be the tough branch of the great tree ! It has nestled 
through the cold winter in that speck of a bud that has now 
been riven by the touch of spring. How could those leaves 
have been formed in the dark, mysterious bud? Tell me, 


12 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


Stella ! Do I 0, I know what you will say, Stella, Nature ! 
Yes, yes! True, but what is nature, with its wondrous in- 
telligence and constancy? My reason and heart say, God; 
but men say, Nature. What is nature if not the expression of 
God’s thought, touched by the majesty and might of his will?” 

“You ensnare yourself in a tangle of unfathomable mys- 
teries, Janie, by your constant struggle to know what the 
great teachers of knowledge can not explain. Why bother 
with such thoughts?” Stella answered with a touch of im- 
patience. 

An expression of pain crossed Janie’s beautiful face for 
a moment — for only a moment. Then, in a subdued but de- 
cided voice, she replied : 

“ But I feel something I can not explain, something my 
senses can not fathom, something more than exacting skep- 
ticism can account for. I do not know what it is ; for it is 
above reason, argument, conjecture. I believe it a soul-ex- 
perience, Stella; for it gives me an ecstatic happiness that is 
beyond all other life-experiences;” and she sat as lost in in- 
tense absorption, her look fixed upon the tender plant in her 
still open hand. 

“But why not do as our wise men — call it Nature, and 
cease to bother your brain ? You see it can do you no good. 
If our philosophers can satisfy themselves by the word 
Nature , why not you? You will unsettle yourself by your 
constant dwelling on such a foolish question.” 

Janie turned a look of gentle reproach upon her friend; 
but in a moment it was transformed into a lingering smile, 
so winning that Stella was touched, and hastily recalled her 
words by a quick apology. 


AN AFTERNOON RAMBLE. 


13 


“Forgive me, Janie!” she said. “I did not mean to 
hurt your feelings; only I can not understand you some- 
times. You are so queer!” she added, hestitatingly, as if 
doubting whether she had bettered the matter by such a 
statement. 

“I wonder if anybody can understand my feelings,” 
answered Janie, wistfully looking into her friend’s face. “ I 
think I am a child — a thing of nature as the flowers and 
trees are, with a soul that teels the touch of God’s presence 
as plants the warmth of the quickening sun-rays. I seem a 
part of the woods and meadows and clouds and air ; and the 
birds and lambs and flowers seem to talk to me — not as 
human beings, but with silent voices that thrill some 
where in the labyrinth of the heart instead of the labyrinth 
of the ear.” 

Both Stella and Janie were beautiful young women, and 
Janie in particular now, under the influence of her elevated 
pleasure. Her face was lit up by a glow that made every 
feature attractive. Her presence was such as to arrest at- 
tention at all times, because of her regular, faultless symmetry 
of face and quiet pose of manner. IleL* eyes were large and 
blue and full of alert expressiveness, and at times seemed to 
partake of the deeper color of the violet she loved so dearly. 
Her forehead lifted in a high and broad expanse that was 
crowned by clusters of golden hair. Her chin, beneath .a 
chaste mouth, was full and firm of character; so that to a 
spiritual and sensitive nature was added the grace of reso- 
lution that would be firm in defense of convictions. She 
was of medium height, slender, supple, graceful, and char- 
acterized by a striking individuality and intellectuality. 


14 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


She was an example of perfect womanhood, shaped and 
molded by a Divine artist. 

As she now sat beside her friend, excited by the play of 
deep emotions inspired by her heart-cravings, she was beau- 
tiful in the eyes of Stella to the point of envy. As Stella 
looked upon her a feeling of bitterness crept into her heart, 
the like of which she had faintly felt upon other occasions ; 
but never so strongly marked as now. An echo of this sen- 
timent rose to her lips, as she looked at her friend caressing 
and talking to the inanimate sprig of oak nestling in her palm. 

“ O, Janie! You make yourself ridiculous by such fool- 
ishness ; do throw the thing away, and be more like a nat- 
ural woman !” she said, with an impatient voice and manfier 
that were new to herself and a surprise to Janie. 

Janie felt the change of manner in her friend, and was 
speechless for a time under its shock. But in her generous 
and forgiving nature she vaguely blamed herself for Stella’s 
change; and, rising from her seat, she pinned the sprig to 
her bosom, and placing her arm about Stella’s waist again, 
together they started homeward. 

“ I know you think me foolish,” Janie said, as they walked 
along; “ but I can’t help it. I do love nature so dearly, and 
I feel so deeply that I can not disguise my words or acts,” she 
added, as if in extenuation of her foolishness. “You have 
never found fault with me before,” she continued, looking 
into her friend’s face for a solution of the mystery. “ Why, 
dear, do you think me foolish to-day?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Stella, thoughtfully. “Per- 
haps because I am foolish,” she added, looking away from 
Janie, unwilling to bear her lingering gaze. 


AN AFTERNOON RAMBLE. 


15 


“ You could not be that, Stella,” Janie answered, quickly. 
“You are my dear friend, you know,” she added, affection- 
ately patting her hand that she had grasped but a moment 
before. 

This was the first little interruption of harmonious friend- 
ship the two had known for years. Nothing of consequence, 
to be sure; but still a surprise to both. 

“How could it have happened? I must restrain my im- 
pulsive feelings, else Stella will weary of me,” Janie ex- 
claimed to herself, touched by a feeling of sadness. 

“Why am I so impatient to-day with Janie, I wonder?” 
thought Stella. “Heretofore her moods have amused me, 
and I have been diverted, never before oppressed by 
them.” 

The two walked along as they had done an hour before; 
but without the tightened grip of then. They were free 
in conversation, and without apparent restraint, but still 
with an undefined suppression of gayety, as if a cloud had 
overcast their sky, leaving a shadow upon their inner 
selves 

Stella was also a beautiful woman ; but of a different 
type from Janie. She lacked the firm poise of resolution 
that characterized Janie, and was surprisingly vacillating at 
times. She was the opposite of Janie in spirituality and 
reverence for the beautiful, though highly cultured and of a 
discriminating mind. She had been amused by Janie’s 
peculiarities rather than in harmony with them. Her tem- 
perament was rugged, willful, reliant, secretive, with great 
possibilities as the world should enlarge and expand before 
her young womanhood. No one could foretell the course 


16 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


ehe would pursue as impulse and motive would largely 
control. She had a beautiful face, as judged by men’s 
standards of beauty. She was lovely, also, in her full and well- 
developed person, and in her self-confident carriage. Her 
face was full and rounded, of dark complexion, with brown 
eyes shading into blackness, arched by heavy eyebrows. 
Both were about the same age — perhaps two aud twenty. 
They were neighbors, and had been schoolmates, grad- 
uating in the same class. Every advantage had been 
given them by indulgent parents, and they were educated 
and accomplished. As we now meet them for the first time, 
loitering by the highway, it is in equal enjoyment of advan- 
tages ; and together they tarried on the threshold of woman- 
hood, anxiously contemplating the distant future. 

As the lane they were pursuing neared the crest of the 
long hill, another crossed it at right angles. Both seemed at 
the same moment to descry the near approach of a finely- 
formed and elegantly-dressed gentleman. It was evident 
that he recognized them as well ; for he raised his hat with 
a smile before his voice could be heard. 

“Charley Ludlow!” said Stella, with a start; and in the 
instant took her arm from about Janie’s waist. Her look 
was eager and manner animated as she spoke. 

“Yes; I see,” quietly replied Janie, her face slightly 
flushing. 

“Let us wait for him!” said Stella, stopping. “He 
beckons !” 

Janie would have proceeded, but Stella restrained her 
gently, grasping a fold of her dress. 




u Their hands met, and he seemed to cling to Janie.” 

—Page 17. 


AN AFTERNOON RAMBLE . 


17 


Hastily approaching them, he exclaimed from a little dis- 
tance : 

“ Beautiful day ! Beautiful faces ! Out for a ramble, I 
see!” again lifting his hat politely and with a winning smile. 

He had mixed compliments of the weather and faces to- 
gether, and in such form that neither of the young ladies 
could demur. But Stella said in reply : 

“ What are you doing, if not in this lonely place on a 
like rambling mission? No one could have expected you 
here 1” 

“ O well, you know I am here and there and everywhere,” 
he answered, with a shade of embarrassment, and an appar- 
ently forced laugh. 

“We don’t see much of you of late, it is true,” said 
Stella, eagerly. “Are you home now for a length of time, 
or but for a day ?” 

“ 1 do n’t know — that is, I can’t tell,” he answered, eva- 
sively, stepping up to Janie’s side, and looking intently into 
her face. “ Not a word as yet from your lips,” he said to 
her, reproachfully. 

“ You know you are always welcome,” she answered, 
calmly. 

“ But then I like to hear it from your lips. 1 can’t take 
too much for granted. Can’t you shake hands with me, 
Janie? That would add pleasure to the assurance,” he said, 
with an air of hungry eagerness. 

“ Certainly, if it will please you,” she answered with the 
formal calmness that had characterized her words of wel- 
come. 

Their hands met, and he seemed to cling to Janie until 
2 


18 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


she withdrew her hand by apparent force and under em- 
barrassment. 

Stella witnessed this open demonstration with a clouded 
brow and a feeling of resentment in the heart. 

“ I suppose you do not care to shake hands with me,” she 
said in measured words and with a look of offense. 

“ Now, Stella !” he answered, turning his steady gaze full 
upon her, “your hand always welcomes me, but this little 
one is seldom proffered,” he added in excuse. “I have al- 
ways to ask it as a favor from her,” he concluded, looking 
wistfully into her face. 

“ O, indeed 1” Stella retorted, with acerbity. 

“ Pray, do not be offended with me, Stella. You know 
we are too old friends to take slights that are not intended 
as such,” and his bright smile broke down her feeling of 
jealousy that had, for the moment, betrayed her. 

And still Janie was silent. 

They walked on to the village in pleasant, rambling con- 
versation, in which Stella and Charley almost entirely ap- 
propriated the time, though he made many efforts to engage 
Janie’s attention unavailingly. 

They stood at last before Janie’s gate, just as the setting 
sun was seen to dip beneath the western horizon in a bed of 
crimson hue. With intent look she watched the play of 
color, and its beauty stilled the tempest that had raged in 
her heart since her hand had felt the rude grip of her old 
friend and playmate in the lane a short while before. 

Then she was aroused by his exclamation : “ Good-night, 
Janie; I will see you again soon !” 

She still stood at the gate, dreamily looking at Stella as 


AN AFTERNOON RAMBLE. 


19 


she and Ludlow passed down the street, her hand locked in 
his arm, and her eager eyes fixed on his face, which was in- 
clined low towards her own. She saw Stella and Mr. Lud- 
low enter her gate, and mechanically returned the kiss 
which Stella tossed towards her with a wave of the hand. 

Then she entered her own door, and met the cheerful face 
of her mother with a saddened expression. 

“Ah, Janie, you are back, are you? You must have had 
a delightful walk. But — you are pale, dear! Can it be a 
tear I saw fall from your eyelid?” and the mother was 
transformed into intensest solicitude in a moment. 

“ It is nothing, mother,” she replied with an effort, 
“ nothing at all,” and she gently lifted the hand that was 
resting on her arm now, and silently passed out of the room 
and to her own. 

Janie was inexpressibly sad. What had suddenly come 
over her she could not explain to her own self-questionings. 
The silent touch of human emotions was at play with her 
sensitive heart, that the maiden can not understand in 
awaking to the realities of womanhood. All the afternoon 
her sensitive nature had felt the mystery of changing emo- 
tions ; and the thoughts that had come with the presence of 
Mr. Ludlow had bewildered her. 

She must sit quietly down, now, and think — think until 
she can solve the strange doubt and mistrust of the man 
whom she had tried to love. 



CHAPTER II. 

On th e Porch, 

O N the broad porch that curved around the front and 
west side of the old-fashioned house, sat Mr. and Mrs. 
Alien, enjoying the grateful warmth of the afternoon sun, 
and the beautiful foliage that had already clothed the trees 
in delicate shade. They were a contented, happy couple, 
who had fought the battles of mature life together, and were 
now in quiet retirement and in the peaceful retrospection of 
well-spent lives. Their only child was Janie, the fair-faced 
lover of nature, who had spoken her thoughts to her friend 
Stella the day before. 

For many a year Mr. and Mrs. Allen had lived in a beau- 
tiful village, set high on the crest of a hill overlooking the 
Miami River and low-lying country about. Though not an 
immediate suburb of Cincinnati, it was thought by the 
villagers to be an appanage at least ; for many of its business 
men resided here, going and returning daily. 

Many like traits of character were recognizable in Janie 

and her mother. Their kindly manners were exquisitely 
20 


ON THE PORCH. 


21 


portrayed in all the commonplace events of their daily lives. 
Perfect purity, evenness of temper, and kindly, unselfish 
forbearance, clothed them as with a matchless garment. 

The father was a well-rounded man in character, lacking, 
however, the refinements of his wife and daughter. As a 
farmer during much of life, his isolation from the amenities of 
society, and association with the animals and furrows of soil 
that he had so long upturned with the plow, had impressed 
his actions, though unaffected in heart. Ilis perceptions 
were not as acute nor his reasoning faculties as quick as the 
wife’s; for it was a subtle intuition that seemed to illumine 
her mind — a faculty concealed in the dim chambers of the 
inexplicable mystery of human life divinely sensitized. 

Mrs. Allen had lain awake much of the night, tortured 
by vague sympathy for some intangible grief or trouble, 
which had found birth in the tears that had dropped from 
Janie’s eyes the evening before. She had not asked of Janie 
an explanation, but attempted to fathom the mystery by 
conjectures, and alone with her own heart-thoughts. 

Mr. Allen rather aggravated her trouble by a vexatious 
remark. He said : 

“ I do not understand, mother, why you and Janie have 
been looking at each other all the day so suspiciously. You 
seem afraid of each other for some reason. It may be a 
secret you desire to keep from me.” 

“There is no secret between us,” Mrs. Allen quietly an- 
swered ; “ but there are heart-thoughts at times that can not 
be explained or become subjects of conversation.” 

“ I do not understand that,” he answered. “ I never have 
a thought that I can not explain or tell to another. I think 


22 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


there must be some romance about such a proposition j for 
it is not reasonable.” 

“ Still,” Mrs. Allen anxiously replied, “there may be 
heart-suspense and undefined apprehensions that are tortur- 
ing, though undefinable. Words can not reach them. We 
feel deeper at times than tongue can express,” she concluded, 
with a deeply-thoughtful look. 

“ I do not understand that, either,” said Mr. Allen, with 
a restless manner. “There is nothing that can not be told.” 

Mrs. Allen replied, after some moments of earnest 
thoughtfulness : 

“ You may not understand me. Possibly I do not under- 
stand myself ; for there is something mysteriously hid away 
in the silent depths of the heart that we feel. It is like 
another language than our own, and can find audience only 
in the ears of the Divine presence overshadowing us. That 
is what I mean,” she said, wistfully, doubting if she had 
even yet made herself intelligible. 

“ Still an enigma,” answered Mr. Allen, perversely. 

“ I am sure Janie understands me. I do wish you 
could,” she replied in a discouraged tone. 

How plainly the mother and Janie are alike — the 
one but the impress of the other! The inheritance has 
come by some strange power of life — a subtle process that 
can never be defined or analyzed. What is it? We would 
pause to ask the philosopher, the physician, the scientist, the 
atheist, the dreamers of dreams; but it eludes the eager 
search of all alike. We can not find the solution in matter, 
for that is inert and dead ; it can not be found in nature, for 
that word is unsatis'ying and tells only of the fact. IJered- 


ON THE PORCH. 


23 


ity is but one of the mysterious complexities of human life. 
Janie and her mother would solve the mystery by an unhes- 
itating and confident auswer. They would say, from God, 
though science should deny ; they would say God, with an 
echo from the heart that would appeal to the reason. To 
them it is felt — as the mother vainly attempted to describe 
to the husband — a feeling to which language is denied, and yet 
more convincing than conjectures, the evidence materialism 
would offer. 

Mrs. Allen was not conscious of this little digression of 
thought, though the sentiment would be natural to her deli- 
cate, refined, and loving organization. Doubt and infidelity 
could not find congenial soil in which to thrive in her heart, 
that could feel as well as know. 

But Mr. Allen said to the wife’s reference to Janie : “ I 

know she and you are much alike;” and then with a touch 
of feeling: “I wiob, r though, she were more like Stella.” 

“Why?” asked Mrs. Allen, in surprise. 

“ For the reason that I believe she would then have more 
stability of character,” he answered petulantly, as if his 
words were a reproach to his own better judgment. 

“ Stability of character,” she repeated. “ Surely you can 
not mean stability of character ! That implies weakness in 
Janie,” she said, feelingly. 

“ I mean just what I say,” he answered, with persistence 
and uneasily. 

He now realized that he had spoken hastily, but was un- 
willing: to withdraw his unnatural statement. He had not 
the moral courage in the presence of his self-pride to ac- 
knowledge an error; he would rather the wrong should 


24 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


stand than bear a trifling humiliation before his wife, whose 
judgment he respected. And now he was defiant in manner, 
piqued that the mother had so quickly sprung to the daugh- 
ter’s defense. He felt still more deeply when she answered 
with a flush of indignation overspreading her calm features: 

“ I am almost pained that you should think her weak in 
that direction above all others,” pausing in the needlework 
in which she had been engaged. “ Even you do not under- 
stand your own daughter, evidently.” 

“I think I do, though!” he retorted, with acerbity. 

“No purer, more stable character can be found than our 
little Janie. She will never waver or swerve from the right. 
She has a heart that Stella can not know to protect her. 
She will be exalted when Stella will fall; for Stella is weak 
in moral tone, and is vacillating and unstable, as you may 
sometime have the opportunity of judging for yourself,” she 
said, with flushed excitement, knowing better the daughter’s 
character than did the father. 

“ If you object to stability, then let the word weakness 
apply — they may be synonymous as applied to womanly 
traits,” he unyieldingly asserted. 

“In what way?” asked Mrs. Allen, in unfeigned aston- 
ishment, a deeper look of indignation overspreading her face. 

“By her indifference to every household duty, she chases 
phantoms! I fear she will never make a wife for any one. 
In all her inclinations she is unpractical,” he answered, 
warmly. 

“And yet since childhood you have declared she could not 
be a farmer’s wife ; that her delicate sensibilities and ardent 
nature unfitted her for drudgery. You have been unspar- 


ON THE PORCH, 


25 


ing in her accomplishments, and have even rejoiced with 
pride in her loving, kindly nature. She is what you would 
have her be. O, thou inconsistent man! She is pure in 
character, and firm of resolution as are the solid rocks ; and 
never will adversity or temptation harm her womanhood. 
Though weak, as you interpret her actions, she is infinitely 
superior to the model you have chosen by which to judge 
her. It is a consoling thought that her character is estab- 
lished upon a moral basis that can not be shaken. Your 
model may fail for lack of this quality alone. It is the es- 
sential of all grandeur in womanly character. She is not 
weak, but strong, as I know from a mother’s understanding 
and intimacy with her heart-thoughts.” 

There was no halting utterance in Mrs. Allen’s state- 
ments. Her words seemed to surge up as a flood bursting 
through a barrier, and carried conviction even to the waver- 
ing mind of her husband. 

You may be right,” he at last falteringly replied. 

“I am right, dear. I have an unshaken faith in her 
future life, as I have in God’s presence in the glowing 
heavens. Eeproach can never attach to her. She is unas- 
sailable,” she continued, with kindness and a gentle manner 
that turned Mr. Allen’s fears and reproaches into an exultant 
confidence. 

Mrs. Allen and Janie were strong, though delicate in 
physical characteristics. It was that fine, incisive quality 
that cuts with keen edge through grosser thoughts, and 
turns aside the stolidity of duller natures. It was the finely- 
tempered intellect and intuition that sees farther, and feels 
deeper, and knows more certainly than dull animalism. 


26 


A CHILD OF NATURE, 


The husband usually gave way to the wife in mental 
struggles. It was not surprising that now he should shrink 
from further comparisons; that his loving confidence in 
Janie should be turned back to its old and well-worn channel. 

After a brief lapse in the conversation, he said to his 
wife, as if in recognition of her sterling qualities : 

“Janie will not err while you live, dear. I know I can 
have no part in her training. My manners are like my 
hands, rough and hard. I leave her to you; but I want her 
love, if she can love a harsher nature than her mother’s.” 

“No fear of Janie loving her father less for the calloused 
hands that have worked for her so devotedly; nor fear that 
she will fail to recognize the warm heart beneath her father’s 
manners. There is where she is the true woman. Were we 
both unpresentable as human caricatures, still we would be 
loving parents in her faithful estimation. Can you think as 
much for Stella? You shake your head. Though nurtured 
with the same care as Janie, is she loving and deferential to 
those who have done so much for her, even now? What 
will it be in the whirl of life’s temptations? Her pent-up 
forces are likely to overleap her moral restraints, and run 
riot. She is full of latent impulses,” Mrs. Allen said, as if 
moved by prophetic convictions. 

But their conversation was interrupted by Janie’s quiet 
approach, which was with a smile as fervent and cheering 
to their hearts as the bright sunlight to their physical sensi- 
bilities. 

The father made way for her, and placed a chair between 
himself and wife that she might be near to them both. In 
her presence his rough exterior seemed to be transformed to 


ON THE PORCH. 


27 


a gentle, caressing, kindly way ;» and his usually inanimate 
look to quick amiability, that was like a self-effacement. 
Her calm serenity seemed to shine on every nature with 
an assurance of purity and innocence. She was a loving, 
lovable character, of whom jealousy would be cruel and un- 
reasonable. 

The mother reached out and took her little hand 
in her soft palm, with a clinging warmth that instinct- 
ively riveted their gaze upon each other in looks of happy 
trustfulness. At that moment, upon every heart a love that 
knew no worldly taint settled like a silent benediction. 
Janie brought this happiness to her loving parents that ban- 
ished, in the instant, every trace of feeling that had surged 
between husband and wife but a brief while before. 

“ I have been wishing for you,” said the father. 

“Yes? Why, papa?” she asked, with a smile. 

“O well,” he answered, hesitatingly, “I don’t know. 1 
guess because we like to have you with us; that’s all.” 

“ Thank you !” she answered. “ You are so kind !” 

The mother interrupted the endearing expressions, after 
a little, and said : 

“I suppose you have seen Charley Ludlow, have you not?” 

“ Yes,” she answered, with a timid look. “ Stella and I 
met him yesterday eve. He walked part of the way home 
with us.” 

“How does he look?” asked Mrs. Allen, with interest. 

“As usual, I think,” Janie quietly answered. 

“ It seemed to me, when I saw him last, that his face 
bore traces of care. I was not altogether pleased with his 
appearance,” the mother said, guardedly. 


28 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“ Something undefinable crept into my heart yesterday, 
also,” Janie answered, very soberly. “ I fear that I do not 
understand him. I felt something like distrust.” 

“ There is something wrong somewhere, I am sure ; I feel 
it strangely,” said the mother, with anxiety lest she should 
cross her daughter’s happiness by intangible forebodings. 

“You are too suspicious,” interrupted Mr. Allen. “Wo 
have known Charley since a boy, and have had no occasion 
for fault-finding heretofore. Is that not true?” 

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Allen, hesitatingly. 

“Then what is the trouble now?” he persistently in- 
quired. 

“ It is his general appearance, and furtive look especially, 
that has come of late. It is not natural to him. It is a 
look, I believe, that good men do not have.” 

“You may not be a good judge of men,” replied Mr. 
Allen, laughingly. 

“ True, dear ; but, as I have always said to you, there are 
things we feel — impressions we can not account for — and 
they are very often true,” she said, with guarded decision. 

“ I believe you, mother,” said Janie; “for with Charley 
there is something I can not reconcile. I hope I am not 
unjust to him.” 

“Be patient,” said Mrs. Allen, pleadingly, to Janie. 
“ Wait, without committing your feelings, to future develop- 
ments. Will you not do this for me?” she asked, with eager 
face. 

“ I will, mother. I am heart- free now, but sometimes 
oppressed strangely,” she answered, with frank trustful- 


ness. 


ON THE PORCH. 


29 


“ Why oppressed, dear?” 

“ With his persistent earnestness of manner towards me, 
and with Stella’s impatience at such times. He acts with 
indifference to her presence, and she with exceptions to his 
partiality.” 

“But you do not encourage his advancements?” 

“ By no means. On the contrary, I sometimes reproach 
myself for my silence in his presence. He strives to rally 
me ; but of late I fear more and more to talk to him. His 
compliments are sometimes rude, I think, and indelicate. 
He has now, more than ever, a bold and disrespectful way. 
It hurts me,” Janie said, with a look of distress. 

“How does Stella treat him?” 

“ With perfect freedom and confidence. It seems to me 
that she, too, is changing; for she likes his rough expres- 
sions, and is no longer reproachful of his brusque and in- 
delicate ways. And, then, it seems to me that a spirit of 
jealousy has taken hold of her. It is becoming more pro- 
nounced every day. I do hope nothing will come between 
us,” Janie concluded, sadly. 

“I believe nothing will interrupt your mutual friendship 
but a man,” Mrs. Allen replied, as if to prepare her daughter 
for events that might occur in the future. 

“ But, mamma, I hardly think we could love the same 
man ; our tastes differ,” Janie said, to controvert the sus- 
picion which had been expressed. 

“ The future will demonstrate. If anything should, do n’t 
be shocked or too sorely grieved,” she answered, significantly, 
and with deep solicitude. “ I would be glad, dear, if you 
will keep nothing from me — for the sake of our mutual 


30 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


happiness, you know,” Mrs. Allen added, still grasping her 
daughter’s hand. 

“ But we have never had concealments,” answered 
Janie. 

“ Nor may there ever be any! Did Stella come between 
you and Charley, yesterday?’ 

“ Not exactly,” replied Janie, with a vacant look beyond 
them. “ He wanted me to shake hands with him, which you 
understand I had not refused to do, only it did not occur to 
me as necessary or expected, and I did not offer it. He 
seemed somehow to chide me for not eagerly welcoming him 
as Stella appeared to do. She took it up at once, and com- 
plained that he did not care to shake hands with her, and 
reproaches of a trifling character passed between them on 
my account. It made me feel badly; and when I had almost 
by force to withdraw my hand from his, I was mortified and 
almost offended by his manner. The effect impressed me for 
a length of time, and I may have showed it, mamma, when 
you met me then. Forgive me if I left you, at the time, 
without an explanation. I could not talk.” 

The father’s face wore a look of indignation, and he 
moved restlessly in his chair, but without interruption. 

“ That accounts for the tear I detected on your cheek,” said 
the mother, tenderly. 

“Yes: I presume so,” Janie answered. 

“And it also accounts for the secret which your father 
claimed awhile back, existed between you and me; but which 
I assured him was imaginary. Do you understand now, 
dear, that I had feelings of suspense and dread without form 
or character?” she asked of Mr. Allen. 


ON THE PORCH. 


31 




He assented gladly, and then, with considerable emotion, 
said : 

“ I do not object, Janie, to your meeting Charley, or to his 
calling upon you, or to his friendship, or love if you incline 
that way; but, let me tell you, if ever I know him to abuse 
or insult you, it will go hard with him,” and he surveyed his 
rough hands for a moment, as if appealing to them as willing 
instruments with which to execute the threat. 

• A stillness, in which all seemed intently thinking, now 
rested upon them for a time. Each one wrestled with indi- 
vidual burdens. A commonplace event may have been the 
cause of self-examination at this moment; but life-burdens 
sometimes have their beginning in little things, that grow in 
momentum with passing years, until hope and happiness and 
life are crushed in the end. 



CHAPTER HI. 


In the Garden. 


ANTE left her parents, and went to the garden, where a 



little plot of ground had been set apart for the flowers 
she venerated for their color, their perfume, their beauty — 
for the mystery of their lives. With true affection she pre- 
pared their soft bed, and watched eagerly their first tender 
coming, and guarded them from noxious weeds as she would 
have done the heart of a child from sin. Innocently she 
would talk to them as if sentient with human life, and lin- 
gered wonderingly upon the inspiring thoughts they silently 
aroused. To her, nature was animated with myriad tongues 
that seemed to commune with her silent soul-life; and they 
talked of things the whirl of human passions could not sug- 
gest. Out of all this tender blending of self and nature, in 
her gentle purity a calm, satisfying, unshaken self-evident 
truth took shape ; and, looking beyond nature and self, she 
saw the God of creation enthroned above all — a personality. 
She felt that, in asking of us to be true, just, merciful, lov- 
ing, he is himself what he asks of us. Thus it was not 


32 


IN THE GARDEN. 


33 

dumb nature working out an aimless destiny, but the Divine 
mind and heart guiding all things with perfect wisdom, though 
earthly eyes could not penetrate the mystery behind the veil. 
Thus it may be understood why Janie loved nature, — it was 
for the great God she saw through the beauties of nature. 
As she talked to her flowers, therefore, she seemed to talk 
through them to God who had designed their beaut}^ ; and 
her thoughts were as prayers to the Divine Presence, to which 
she seemed very near. The suggestions of the past day wei^ 
still lingering in her mind, and she was not free now from 
an undefined heartache and sadness. Her tender nature had 
been bruised by the presence of suspicions. She had sought 
the refuge of her garden for escape from such feelings, and 
would have been glad to remain undisturbed. 

She paused, therefore, with a shade of sadness, as Stella’s 
voice was heard talking back to her mother as she hastened 
towards the garden along the smooth pathway leading to it 
from the house. 

As the gate swung wide, Stella exclaimed : “Ah, Janie, I 
have found you at last.” 

With a proffered kiss, Janie replied, languidly but pleas- 
antly : “ I am looking after my little miracles.” 

“ But they can not talk with you,” said Stella. 

“ Perhaps ! but still I love them, you know.” 

“ O, there are better things than they to love !” Stella an- 
swered, with a trace of excitement in her manner. 

“ I think my love of flowers, though, help me to love my 
friends better than if without them.” 

“ But, Janie, I believe that in loving flowers you forget to 
love your friends.” 


3 


34 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“O no; 1 have never discovered where they had that 
tendency ; but, on the other hand, the same feeling they 
claim from me extends towards friends perforce.” 

“But then,” said Stella, “ I do not believe in making com- 
panions of such lowly things. I prefer to have something 
human, something more tangible — manly, if you please !” she 
added, laughingly. 

At the suggestion, Janie looked into the face of her 
friend intently; and, with a shade of embarrassment, she 
moved as if to stoop down again to her flower-bed. 

But Stella hastened to say: “I have something to tell 
you, Janie. I can not rest till you hear it.” 

Janie turned calmly to her again, and stood in silent ex- 
pectancy; so indifferently, however, that Stella was vexed, 
and poutingly said : 

“ You are not interested, I believe, in what I want to 
say.” 

“Indeed I am,” Janie replied, though she regretfully 
divined that it referred to Charley Ludlow. 

“We will see! You know Charley went nome with me 
last night, after leaving you at the gate?” 

“Yes.” 

“Have you any idea how long he remained?” she asked ; 
and then, “ I do n’t suppose you care?” 

“ Why should I?” 

“ O, I thought you especially interested in him !” 

“As an old friend, only.” 

“Well, he staid till ten o’clock; something he never did 
before. He took tea with us also,” she said with an air of 
exultation. 


IN THE GARDEN. 


35 


“Yes!” Janie quietly replied, and with as much indif- 
ference as she could command. It was strange, she thought, 
that she should experience an anxious, even trembling feel- 
ing through the statement. 

“And he talked during most of the evening of you.” 

“ Disparagingly ?” asked Janie. 

“ O no ! It was I who said the disparaging things. I 
told him of your queer ways,” she said, laughingly. “ But 
he was interested, and seemed more than pleased with you 
by every unkind thing I could say. Nothing would divert 
his praise, and so I turned to flattery ; and that delighted 
him still more. The fact is, I was nothing to him at all.” 

“I know you are making light of me!” said Janie, un- 
easily, undecided as to Stella’s real motive or the exact truth- 
fulness of her statements. 

“Indeed I am not,” Stella insisted. “It is just as I tell 
you, truthfully.” 

While Janie was soberly thinking, Stella continued: 

“ The strangest part is now to come. He had the au- 
dacity to tell me, in my own house, just before leaving, that 
he loved you.” 

Janie started at the announcement, and betrayed to her 
friend a deeper surprise or interest than could have been ex- 
pected. She simply said, in reply : 

“ You surprise me, Stella!” 

« Had he told me this in the early part of the evening he 
would not have remained so long. So cold a treatment 
would have been his that the visit would have been short- 
ened;” and she acted as if her pride had been deeply 
wounded. 


36 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“ O, you would not have been rude to him, I know,” said 
Janie, deprecatingly. 

“Well,” Stella continued, laughingly, and with an entire 
change of manner, “ though he did say he loved you, still 
he was so affectionate towards me, and said so many pleas- 
ant things, that I freely forgive him. I am half inclined to 
think he doesn’t know his own mind; that is, whether it is 
you or me he loves best.” 

Janie was still more sobered by Stella’s statement. “ He 
must be playing false to one or the other,” she thought; and 
her suspicions of yesterday were strengthened in the mo- 
ment. 

“ You do not mean to say that he played love to you, and 
talked of love for another at the same time, Stella?” said 
Janie, indignantly. 

“As I say, Janie, I don’t believe he knows his own 
mind,” replied Stella, in excuse. 

“ But I am sure he knows perfectly well what he is 
doing!” answered Janie, decidedly, 

“ Why, you little woman, I did not know you knew so 
much of men and the world,” exclaimed Stella, impulsively, 
momentarily embarrassed in the presence of Janie’s re- 
proachful look, and realizing that she had betrayed her own 
indifference to his lack of gentlemanly honor. 

“ I do n’t know much of men’s ways, it is true, Stella ; 
but I reach conclusions sometimes by a very short cut. I 
feel many things I can not give a reason for. I will say 
now, that I can not rid myself of the conviction that 
Charley Ludlow can not be trusted implicitly.” 

“Why, Janie!” said Stella, recovering herself, “I 


IN THE GARDEN. 


37 


thought you of that trusting character that could see evil in 
no one; and now you are full of subtle wisdom, that deter- 
mines men’s character through harmless actions. Take care 
that nature does not delude you in your blind love for it, 
and leave you stranded and a petulant, withered old maid.” 

“Better that, Stella, than to be deceived by heartlessness, 
and be left a stranded moral wreck, hopeless, degraded, and 
abandoned,” replied Janie, with a look that carried the con- 
viction to Stella’s mind that she would not trifle with fair 
words and deceiving blandishments. 

Janie was startled and pained by the words she had 
listened to, so unlike what Stella had ever before uttered. 
They were reckless words. “Can it be,” thought Janie, 
“ that he has already broken down some of her bars of 
womanly delicacy, and blunted her finer and purer sensibili- 
ties? His freedom of manner must have made an impres- 
sion,” she thought, as she recalled Stella’s confession of but a 
few moments before. “ By taking warning she would in- 
crease her own vigilance,” she concluded. 

Thus thinking, she allowed several moments of silence to 
break into the conversation. Stella interrupted it by saying : 

“Leaving the moral question out of consideration, are 
you not pleased, Janie, with Charley’s confession of love for 
you?” 

“ Though my parents have never objected to his advance- 
ments in the past ; and though we have been accepted as 
lovers by our friends ; and though he has done nothing 
directly to turn me against him, it can never be more than 
the present until the vague feeling of mistrust which has 
taken possession of me is entirely effaced,” answered Janie, 


38 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


with a decision of manner that Stella could not misunder- 
stand. “ I must know more of the man than I do now,” she 
concluded, earnestly. 

“You are overly particular. You are burdened by scru- 
ples,” answered Stella, impatiently. “ I am glad 1 am not so 
narrow.” 

Janie felt hurt by Stella’s manner, but did not show it. 
A heavy weight seemed suddenly to press upon her heart. 
Stella waited but for a moment, and then continued : 

“ You seem to suspicion Charley in some way, but are not 
able to prefer direct charges. That is hardly fair to any one. 
We might all suffer rej^roaches in that way. Do you not 
think so?” 

“ It is not every one who is surrounded by suspicious cir- 
cumstances,” replied Janie, quietly. 

“Pray name them in his case,” said Stella, with what 
seemed to Janie a faint sneering curve of the lips. 

“ Why is he so much from home?” asked Janie. 

“ In pursuit of business, I suppose.” 

“ Why are his movements surrounded with an air of mys- 
tery, as is the common talk of the village?” 

“ That may possibly be his own business and none other’s,” 
said Stella, angrily. 

“ Why does he dress beyond his circumstances, and his 
mother want for comforts?” 

“ I guess she has all she wants, if he does dress well.” 

“ But why should he permit the neighbors to help her to 
many necessary things he ought to provide? He is re- 
proached for this. He might provide better for her by hav- 
ing less himself.” 


IN THE GARDEN. 


39 


“All this is his own business,” said Stella, impatiently. 

“As long as the neighbors do so much, they become justly 
interested, and have a right to think and talk.” 

“ They are meddlesome.” 

“ Could he not sell the jewel that has lately appeared 
upon his shirt-front, and so provide for the mother that talk 
could be stopped ?” 

“ I suppose he has a right to it. I can’t see that it con- 
cerns other people.” 

“ Only so far as it increases the contrast between his own 
abundance and his mother’s poverty. What is his business, 
Stella, that provides diamonds? Can you tell me, or can 
any one?” 

“ That is his affair!” 

“And yet he seems to shun what men are usually glad to 
name and talk about. He has business ; but it is a profound 
secret to every one where he was born and has lived all his 
life.” 

“ Because he was born and has lived here, is no reason 
that he should make a confidant of every gossip.” 

“ It is no more than the natural expectation of one honest 
man from another, that mystery should not cloak his actions. 
Where all is right, there can be no reason for concealment.” 

“And who is to be the judge of that? Certainly not 
those who are predisposed to be unjust!” 

“If you mean me, Stella, I am not unjust to him. You 
have asked me my reasons for being suspicious of Charley 
Ludlow, and I give them to you honestly. Though an old 
friend, he can not, for that, be excused more than another. 
If what you say of his conversation w r ith you last night is 


40 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


true as it applies to me, I have a still greater right to be 
critical.” 

“Shall I tell him your suspicions, and the reproaches with 
which you have just favored him?” retorted Stella, an ugly 
look lingering about her eyes. 

“ Our conversation ought to be in confidence, I think,” 
replied Janie, slightly confused. “Otherwise it will be 
a betrayal of one friend by another, and that would not be 
just. You have asked me for reasons that have hitherto 
found place only in my secret heart. That I might be just 
to myself, and satisfy your reproaches, I was induced to tell 
them ; but still you can do as you please, Stella. Should he 
himself talk to me upon the subject, I would say what I 
have to you. If he is ever more to me than a friend, he 
must be above suspicion ;” and the decision of her character 
and purity of motives were deeply impressed upon Stella’s 
wavering mind. She could not help respecting Janie’s 
honesty of purpose. 

With all the doubts that had found expression in this 
brief but plain conversation, in which the hearts of both 
were revealed to each other, an intense yearning still clung 
to Janie that there might be extenuating circumstances she 
did not know. She desired to be just to him and forgiving, 
for the sake of the admiration she had always carried in her 
secret heart for him — the effect of which she now felt even 
in the presence of suspicion. To no one — not even her 
mother — had she so freely unburdened herself as to Stella 
now. She was perplexed at her strange situation, and op- 
pressed by a dread that she had said too much, and alto- 
gether disappointed at the unexpected revelation of Stella’s 


IN THE GARDEN. 


41 


character. Her confidence in Stella was rudely shaken, and 
her partial threat to betray her seemed to suddenly build up 
a barrier to separate their hitherto unbroken friendship. 

In her heart Stella was glad that Janie had sanctioned 
the recital of the conversation to Mr. Ludlow. She could 
further her own interest and designs by doing so. She 
had not, at first, intended to lead Janie to an injurious 
betrayal of her feelings towards the man ; but it had been 
done unexpectedly and without an effort on her part. As 
the facts were now her property, she resolved to use them 
against Janie. Thus she justified herself in the object to be 
gained ; and when she separated from Janie with a kiss, she 
felt the smitings of conscience that it was a kiss of deceit. 





CHAPTER IY. 


Charley Ludlow. 



S unexpectedly as Charley Ludlow had appeared to 


Cl Janie and Stella, a few days before, on the highway, as 
suddenly did he now disappear. His abrupt coming and 
going at long intervals had become a matter of common 
gossip in the village; and the widowed mother, in her abject 
loneliness, failed to satisfy her inquisitive friends. They 
thought she could, but would not. His manner also had 
changed, and from exuberant cheerfulness he had passed to 
shrinking reserve and silence. Only in the presence of Janie 
and Stella did he seem to awake and be like his old self; 
and yet different from his old self toward the two in rough- 
ness and indelicacy of actions. His was a strange and unac- 
countable transformation to every one. The pride of the 
village had become an object of suspicion. 

Many weeks had passed since his sudden disappearance. 
Without his disturbing presence, Janie and Stella had be- 
come warm friends again, and, apparently, with the same 
trusting, loving companionship as of old. 


42 


CHARLEY LUDLOW. 


43 


It was in the fall of the year when he again appeared. 
Janie and her father and mother were together upon the old 
porch, as once before. It was in the dusk of evening when 
his commanding form was seen approaching from towards 
the river. All instantly recognized him, and Janie with a 
startled, uneasy look. A deep silence rested upon the little 
group from the moment of recognition until he stood before 
the gate. His sudden approach brought a tumult of emo- 
tions that started the nerves of Janie and her mother into a 
tremor, and they fixed their looks upon each other’s faces. 

He paused, and raised his silk hat with gloved hand to 
the little group. Mr. Allen cordially hailed and invited him 
to stop. He lifted the latch of the gate, the clicking sound 
of which seemed to grate on Janie’s strained nerves from the 
distance, and blanched her cheeks. At his approach they all 
arose together to take his proffered hand. But he seemed, 
at the instant, indifferent to the presence of mother and 
father — even rudely impolite in the slighting manner of their 
reception. 

“Ah, little Janie!” he said, coarsely, “I’m glad to see 
you. Pretty as ever, I see!” 

But no reply was made to his uncivil remark. He had 
grasped her hand, and clung to it forcibly. Her face grew 
hot and red, and she tremblingly struggled to release it. 
Then she turned her full look upon him, a look that bore 
unmistakable signs of indignation. 

“You hurt my hand!” she said, with a mist blurring her 
sight. “ You are rough !” she added, suffering pain from 
her bruised sensibilities more than from the crushed hand. 

“O, pardon me!” he said, with a laugh and a fixed stare 


44 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


into her lace that embarrassed her unaccountably ; for she 
was not accustomed to such looks. “ I thought your wel- 
come would be a hearty one ; but I see you are as cold as 
ever,” he added, with apparent disregard of the presence of 
father and mother. “ I took it for granted that Stella had 
fulfilled her promise to me,” he concluded, with an air of 
assurance. 

“I know nothing of her promise,” Janie replied, with a 
dazed look. 

The greeting to Mr. and Mrs. Allen was altogether a sur- 
prise, and they seemed to have lost words, and were dumbly 
silent in his presence ; and, before they recovered sufficiently 
to speak, Mr. Ludlow again tipped his hat, saying : m 

“ I am glad to see you all looking so well ; would be glad 
to stop longer, but am in great haste, and must go. Good-bye 
for the present.” 

It was Mrs. Allen who broke the silence that followed 
long after his departure. She said, indignantly : 

“Never before have I seen so great a change in an indi- 
vidual as appears in Charley Ludlow. Of old, be was kind 
and gentle and polite and respectful to me; but to-night he 
was bold and defiant, and almost rude, to all of us. His 
manner towards you, Janie, can not be tolerated,” she added, 
with trembling lips. 

Mr. Allen was struggling hard against an outburst of 
passion, but to the mother’s last remark his stifled words 
found vent. With compressed lips, he exclaimed : 

“ He had better be more of the gentleman to her, if he 
knows when he is well off!” and then, thoroughly aroused? 
he said : “ The man has the air of the saloon and gambling- 


CHARLEY LUDLOW. 


45 


table about him. I have seen much of the world, though 
called a farmer, and his type of manhood can be seen any 
day in the city about its slums. Though his face is pretty, 
and hands are soft, and clothes of the latest fashion, his 
manners are low, and his talk bears the characteristics of 
a degraded life. I am more than ever persuaded that he is 
no fit associate for Janie. He had better keep at a respect- 
ful distance!” he concluded, with an angry, inflexible look. 

“ Strange !” added the mother ; “ he acted as if we were 
but rustics, without refinement. Either he is in very low 
society, judging us by his own associates, or so high that 
he looks down upon us. In either case, he is not a 
desirable associate for our Janie,” she said, turning to her 
daughter, compassionately taking her little hand into her 
own, and fondly looking at it to discover the hurt she had 
complained of. “ He wore a haggard look that seemed to 
oppress me,” Mrs. Allen continued, softly stroking the hand 
in her own. “ Though light and airy in manner, it was of a 
forced character. There is something wrong with him, I 
am sure,” she concluded. 

Janie had not spoken a word as yet. She sat dumb, with 
pensive eyes, lost in the reflections of her parents. She was 
smarting under the rudeness which had been offered, like a 
defiance of her gentle nature, for the second time. An un- 
accountable aversion crept in upon her feelings as she thought 
and listened. The silent dictation of a pure nature rose like 
a quiet monitor against the presence of sin and degradation. 
Then the echo of the heart came with the single expression 
at the conclusion of her mother’s words : 

“I do not like Charley Ludlow,” she said. 


46 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


For that ner mother tightened her grip upon the soft hand 
she had been clinging to, and looked approvingly into her 
handsome face. An uplifting assurance passed silently from 
one to the other in the moment that thrilled the mother’s 
heart with joy, and banished the presence of evil that like a 
dark cloud had brief! y dimmed their sunlight of happiness 
upon this beautiful evening. 

That same evening Charley and Stella were alone together 
in her pretty drawing-room. He could find no fault with 
her reception of him. It was of as warm and impulsive a 
character as he could desire, only he was not eager for her 
demonstrations of affection. His object to-night was to use 
her as a tool to break down Janie’s indifference to himself. 
He imagined, by some strange infatuation, that he could use 
one woman to lure on another disinterestedly. He did not 
seem to consider that Stella could love him without the ask- 
ing, or that her own desires could be used to defeat his plot- 
tings. He overlooked the fact that she was a woman of 
strong impulses, and would be fierce and unscrupulous with 
aroused jealousy. He seemed somehow to believe that she 
would have no interest beyond his own ; and that she would, 
as Janie’s best friend, act in his behalf. 

The warm greeting had scarce ended, when he abruptly 
said to her, and with a manner that was an offense to her: 

‘‘You did not do as you promised me, Stella!” 

She feigned not to understand ; and vexed by his indif- 
ference to herself, in a tantalizing way, retorted : 

“ What do you mean?” 

“ I think you understand me, Stella,” he answered, with 
a surly look, as if chafing under resentment. 


CHARLEY LUDLOW. 


47 


“ I can not read your thoughts. You must speak 
plainly,” she answered, harshly. 

He looked at her steadily for a moment, and would have 
next spoken unkindly; but in the presence of her resentful 
face his words failed him. lie answered, bitterly : 

“It does not matter. Janie displayed the same cold re- 
pulsion as usual but an hour ago, showing conclusively, to 
my mind, that you could not have effected much, at least. 
Friends usually succeed better than that,” he said, reproach- 
fully. 

Stella was deeply moved by this unkind reproach, so al- 
together uncalled for. She was swayed in the moment by 
jealousy and his indifference to her own self-respect, which 
he seemed to ignore. Though under no obligations to him, 
he treated her as if he had claims upon her. It was a coarse 
indifference of her rights, she thought. 

“I have no control over Janie’s actions,” she retorted, 
bitterly. “ She is her own mistress, I suppose you know,” 
she added. 

“ O yes,” he replied, “ and a very indifferent friend to 
me.” 

“ Why should you persist in seeking a friendship that is 
not willingly given? She is not the only woman in the 
world,” she said, scornfully. 

“ But I want her friendship,” he eagerly replied, and al- 
most sadly. 

“And if she should never give it you — then what?” 

“I don’t know, Stella,” he answered, dejectedly. “Per- 
haps I would go to the dogs then.” 

Stella laughed long and tantalizingly. 


48 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“ That is a bright, brave saying for a man as handsome as 
you are!” she answered, thoughtlessly. 

He turned a look upon her in the instant that made even 
Stella shudder. She seemed to realize that she could no 
longer talk to him in innocent banter as of old. She felt a 
strange apprehension of danger, and a fear that he no longer 
respected womanly freedom or modesty. She was sobered 
by the awakening and the new thoughts which had come to 
her. She understood the meaning of his former freedom of 
actions better now. In knowing her own heart and motives 
and his character, she realized that her love for him became 
as a guilty love — not such a love as would inspire Janie’s 
heart. Would she give him up with this new understand- 
ing? She decided the question as soon as suggested to her 
mind. In her jealousy of Janie, she resolved to stand be- 
tween her and Ludlow, and face the danger that so suddenly 
rose before her ; she would rely upon her own strength of 
character for protection. She felt that she was not so weak 
a woman as Janie, and need not be governed by her scruples. 
In the instant she had exposed herself to the assaults of 
degrading influences. It did not take long thus to reason 
out her course of actions for the future. With a contemptu- 
ous wave of the hand, she said : 

“ Janie does not love you, and never will.” 

“Does she authorize you to say as much?” he asked, 
eagerly and with blanched face. 

“ I would not say it without.” 

“ Then you have talked with her upon the subject. I did 
you an injustice by my reproaches. I thought, from your 
manner, you had not kept your promise. Forgive me.” 


CHARLEY LUDLOW. 


49 


“ O, that is all right, Charley,” Stella hastily replied ; 
“ only, do n’t he so quick, in the future, to misjudge me. Be- 
member that I usually keep my promises. I am not vacillat- 
ing like Janie. I know my own mind.” 

“I believe you, Stella,” he answered, soothingly; “but 
what did she say?” 

“Nothing but reproaches.” 

“ Eeproaches? What were they?” 

“ I don’t care to repeat them, Charley. I had better not 
do so.” 

“But I wish you would, Stella; they will not hurt me. 
I believe I am proof against reproaches. Come !” 

“And you will not be offended with me?” 

“ Why should I be with you, of all others? You listened 
to them as my defender, I know.” 

“Yes,” Stella answered eagerly, as if grateful for the 
suggestion. “ I did defend you. You would have no self- 
respect to love her after her bitter words.” 

“And what were they ?” he insisted, suspiciously. 

“Well, if you still insist, they referred to your family, 
your dress, your long intervals of absence, your silence as to 
your business affairs, and the like. She insisted that there 
was an air of susjficion surrounding you, and said emphat- 
ically that, until all were made clear, she would have nothing 
to do with you.” 

“O, is that all?” he answered, looking steadily into 
Stella’s face, to read there if suspicion rested upon her mind 
also. “ I guess my shoulders are so broad that they can 
bear them all,” he said, with some relief in the thought that 

Stella retained confidence in him. 

4 


50 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“ You are less a man than I think you, to be influenced 
by them,” answered Stella, impulsively. “ I know, if I were 
a man, they would have no effect upon me.” 

“ Still, it is hard to give up the love of childhood and 
young manhood. I have loved her, seemingly, all my life. 
It appears to me now that my future would be a blank with- 
out her,” again forgetting Stella’s reproaches, lost in the 
lingering heart-cravings that seemed to torture him. 

Stella could scarce reply, choked by resentment that he 
should again express his unyielding love for Janie, and in 
face of the reasons she had revealed for its hopelessness. Bit- 
terly then she replied : 

“ If you reach your desires you will have to change your 
ways, Charley Ludlow.” 

“How change my ways? Do you reproach me also?” 

“ By making a confession of all your private affairs, and 
by proving to her suspicious mind that you are above re- 
proach,” she answered, sneeringly. 

“ Still, some things are hard to give up. It may be she 
knows more of my life than I would have her know,” he said, 
with an infatuation that aroused Stella’s deepest anger. 

“Ah ! Then you do rest under suspicion ! Is that your 
meaning?” she retorted, with quivering lips and flushed face. 

“You are unreasonably fierce with me to-night, Stella. 
Why do you catch me up so unkindly? I am not worse 
than other men,” he answered, as if suddenly deprived of 
manly courage, looking into her face with pleading eyes. 

The look was too much for her. She relented at once, and 
soothingly answered : 

“ Of course not. I do n’t think so, either. Only you are 


CHARLEY LUDLOW. 


51 


so childish about that child Janie. You lose your manliness 
when you talk about her. I do n’t like you when you talk 
and act thus,” she said, striving to smile. 

“ O, don’t you turn against me also, Stella! If you 
should do that, after Janie, it would seem as if every cord 
that holds me to childhood and its happiness were broken,” 
he cried. 

“ I do n’t turn against you, Charley,” she said, encourag- 
ingly. “ I have had faith in you when that of every other 
one has been shaken in our village, as you know. I am not 
likely to suspect you so easily.” 

“ Thank you, Stella,” he replied, with a strangely guilty 
look. “ 1 do not know why everybody here is against me,” 
he added, in a shrinking, cowardly way. “ I am sure I 
have done no one any harm. I am of age, and my own 
master, I believe,” he said, as if in self-excuse. 

“ Of course you are, except in one thing. You are a 
slave to Janie’s good looks, and would creep in the dust for 
her approval,” Stella answered, tauntingly. 

Never before had she spoken so freely to Charley as to- 
night. She had flattered, censured, tantalized, or abused, and, 
apparently, without touching his submissive mood. But, 
with all, had she shaken his clinging love for Janie? Again 
she hastened to assault his hateful perversity. She said : 

“If my regard is anything to you, it can not last much 
longer with your meek submission to the reproaches of one 
who can never love you. It is too aggravating for the con- 
tinuance of respect from any one. It is not manly,” she said, 
with flashing eyes that made him cringe. He could, appar- 
ently, make no reply. 


52 


A CHILD OF NATURE . 


“ You have, somehow, drawn me into your affairs/’ she 
continued, with excitement; “you have, in other words, 
made me a go-between ; and when Janie has returned only 
bitter words of reproach and suspicion, you tamely submit, 
and still want my respect and friendship. You but trifle 
with me, and must not expect it.” 

Had her words the desired effect? Eagerly she watched 
the lines of his face for the assurance she craved. She was 
encouraged by the look of humility that he returned for her 
bitter words. It was a faint indication to her yearning heart 
that she did have a strong hold upon him. It wotild grow, 
she thought, as Janie’s hold should weaken, and at last be 
paramount. Then she said, as if in defiance of his senti- 
ment : 

“ Let us drop the subject here, and never refer to Janie 
again. I have little patience left for either of you. I fear I 
shall doubt your self-respect next, and then I will be the last 
one of your old friends to leave you.” 

To Stella, this was the most important day of her life. 
She had awaked to a knowledge of her own powers and re- 
sources, and had felt a strange infatuation in the use of de- 
ceit and untruthfulness. They were now resources, and had 
stood her well to-night. All scruples of conscience seemed to 
have been forgotten in her blind infatuation. She felt a 
pleasure in an object to be gained, and a great satisfaction in its 
pursuit by methods that were concealed from others. She had 
awaked to the sense of being important to one she had loved ? 
though he did not return that love as yet. It was the hope 
that she would supplant another, and gain for herself at last 
the coveted prize, that fixed her eager thoughts and desires 


CHARLEY LUDLOW . 


53 


upon the future. She knew positively that much of the work 
had been accomplished to-night. When the full possession 
should come, she would be happy, she thought. The end 
would justify the means. 

While Stella’s love was earnest and doubtless sincere, it 
was the beautiful face and form that now attracted, rather 
than the sterling qualities of manhood. To-night, when 
secrecy and mystery surrounded him in her presence, and 
she realized that he offered no defense against Janie’s sus- 
picious accusations, still she was blinded to all for the sake of 
the beautiful face which looked upon her. It was an infatu- 
ation of the eyesight and the passions rather than respect 
lor the noble, godlike qualities of the soul of man that may 
shine from unshapely faces, and move the world by pure and 
exalted impulses. It was the lovely exterior only of which 
she thought. He was of a mold to please the feminine eye 
that would be blind to an analysis of the true demands of 
perfect manhood. 

Before their final separation for the night, Stella realized, 
with exalted happiness, that she had gained an ascendency 
over him — that her influence was dominating by the force of 
her strong will. Was he worthy of her? was a question she 
failed to pause and consider. 




CHAPTER V. 


A Town Meeting. 


OB a long time the quiet village had been disturbed by 



1 occasional depredations. Stores and private residences 
had been burglarized, and of late such visitations had grown 
in frequency. Suspicion could attach to no one living in the 
town or neighborhood ; and none could think that the quiet, 
peaceful seclusion of the place, where all were Arcadian in 
temperament and innately law-abiding, could germinate so 
rank a growth as a thief or burglar. But the presence, of 
such an evil one had become an assured fact, and steps were 
to be taken at last for self-protection. 

A mystery clung to the depredators; for the evil was 
confined to this particular place, and to such times when all 
spasmodic efforts at detection had ceased. The acts and inten- 
tions of the people were evidently known to the depredators, 
and visitations came most certainly to those most active in the 
movements of self-protection. There seemed to be method 
in all such movements, as if one inspired the other. As this 
impression grew into an assurance, the mystery and excite- 




54 


— 


A TOWN MEETING . 


55 


ment increased; and no longer could a passive acquiescence 
in the outrage be endured. 

Circulars had been posted, calling the citizens to a meet- 
ing at the town hall. Few were absent on the appointed 
night. The meeting chanced to be upon the evening follow- 
ing the conversation of Stella and Charley, as narrated in 
the preceding chapter. Charley was in the hall, and with 
him a stranger, not before seen in the village, and unknown 
to all. The two sat in the extreme rear of the house, seem- 
ingly as interested listeners, though at times they were seen 
to exchange significant looks, but without thought to thoso 
about them. 

Mr. Allen had been chosen to preside ; and, in a few terse 
sentences, he explained the object of the meeting. One and 
another then expressed their views and offered suggestions ; 
and though the emotions of the villagers at last grew into 
intense excitement, no one had offered a motion to shape 
their conflicting suggestions into definiteness of action. 
None cared, seemingly, to take the responsibility, because of 
the dread that some had expressed to-night of a visitation 
from the enemy. The fact of such former retaliation had been 
fully pointed out by victims to-night. They resembled a 
timid herd wavering undecidedly for want of a leader. 

At last one of the citizens arose from the back of the 
hall, and addressing the Chair, said: 

“ Mr. Chairman, — We have heard from almost every one 
of our citizens relative to our village trouble. We have 
with us, to-night, one who is almost a stranger — one whom 
we formerly greatly respected, and whose knowledge of the 
world, I think, could be of use to us now — I mean Mr. 


56 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


Charles Ludlow. Would the Chair kindly ask his views 
upon our trouble?” 

During this brief address, Charley flushed, and great 
drops of sweat poured from his face, and he trembled per- 
ceptibly. He arose hastily as if to leave the hall by the open 
door near at hand; but his friend restrained and spoke a 
few whispered words into his ear, which caused him to 
resume his seat. 

When Mr. Allen, therefore, asked him to gratify his 
townsmen, he slowly arose, and stood before them, an object 
of the deepest embarrassment. All eyes were fixed upon 
him, and the suspicions that gossip had quietly indulged in 
the privacy of homes took shape arnd moved many a heart. 

He was disconcerted, and stammered that “ he had been 
so much away from the village that their affairs were scarcely 
understood by him ; that he did not know of their real needs, 
only as he had listened to the complaints of the night; that 
the only thing that could be done, as a solution of the diffi- 
culty, was to appoint patrolmen for their security.” 

The single minute occupied in saying this little was enough 
to impress upon the minds of all present his utter insincerity 
and lack of sympathy toward the people of his old homo and 
youth, and intensify the uncomfortable suspicions that had 
lurked in the minds of all. 

Iiis suggestion was immediately acted upon, and patrol- 
men were appointed. As this was being done, Charley and 
his friend quietly walked out of the room, and disappeared, 
for long weeks after, to every eye that had looked upon them 
that night. 

After the adjournment of the meeting, the subject of the 


A TOWN MEETING, 


57 


night seemed to be overlooked in the strange mystery that 
Ludlow s actions had inspired; and many lingered about the 
hall in suppressed tones of conversation over his presence, 
his absence, and his shrinking manner, all unaccountable. 

Janie and her mother were alone in the little library to- 
night, that was cozy and neat and beautifully ornamented 
with delicate needle-work and water-color paintings, the 
work of Janie’s hands. A vase of delicate flowers glowed in 
blended colors beneath the gleam of the lamplight that was 
like a lovely face full of smiles as it rested between them. 
An air of indescribable harmony pervaded the room, shel- 
tering now two peaceful hearts that could no more be 
analyzed than the human emotions uniting mother and 
daughter in unspeakable affection. It was a lovely retreat, 
untainted by strife. The two were patiently waiting the 
father’s return from the citizens’ meeting, which was of so 
unusual a character that it had caused a ripple of excitement 
upon the placid heart of the village; and every wife and 
daughter, like Janie and her mother, was waiting for the 
news, as if of national magnitude and importance. Janie 
had read, and sewed, and talked, and played upon the piano, 
and was now again beside her mother in conversation. 

“ The meeting must be of great importance that father 
is so late,” said the mother, at length, as she looked at the 
clock and saw that it was near eleven. 

“It is so seldom the men have anything to call them to- 
gether, it must prove the old adage that big bodies move 
slowly, the whole village being out, as I imagine it is to- 
night. It must be a ponderous body of men to govern !’ 
said Janie, pleasantly. “ I wonder who has presided ?” 


58 


A CHILD OF NATURE . 


“ Your father, very likely. lie is usually called upon at 
such times.” 

“How strange that our little village should be selected for 
outrages that have made it necessary for such a meeting?” 
said Janie, thoughtfully. 

“ It is strange indeed,” assented the mother. 

“ It can not be because we are so near the great city. 
There are so many other villages around it that, if plunder 
were the only object, we would not be alone selected for per- 
secution. As there is method in the work, so certain indi- 
viduals are selected, and always those who are bold enough 
to denounce the actors. I have been in dread, of late, lest 
we should fall under the ban, as father has been outspoken,” 
said Janie, with a timid, anxious look. “ I wish papa were 
home now?” she added, apprehensively. 

“ O, there is no danger now, Janie, when the village is 
aroused, and all its men are awake and abroad,” answered 
the mother, assuringly. “ Such men are usually cowards, 
and work under cover of darkness. Ho one will stir to- 
night in the bright moonlight that is so like the day.” 

Janie’s fears were allayed by her mother’s assurances; 
and she again turned to her piano to while away the waiting 
moments of the father’s return. She had a sweet, well- 
trained voice; for nothing had been spared in its cultivation 
more than in her education. She was a beautiful, priceless 
exotic of the country, nurtured under the refining influences 
and advantages of the city so near them. Her spiritual na- 
ture could best live and develop in the presence of musical, 
artistic, and mental refinements. She rather beautified 
them, than they her ; and her exquisite grace of figure made 


A TOWN MEETING. 


59 


up a perfect womanly entirety that was peculiar, and at- 
tractive to all, in her distinct individuality. Though of the 
country, she was not a part of the dull and rough toil that 
besets the lives of those who fill the position of farmers’ wives 
and daughters. Such a life would have broken her sensitive 
spirit. She was a true child of nature in her absorbing love 
of every object of nature about her — the fields, woods, the 
varied crops, the weeds incumbering the fence-corners, the 
clouds, the glistening snow-covered landscapes of winter. 
Everything sang songs to her delicate and impressible sensi- 
bilities, as the birds that were fearless of her presence, sang 
to her. 

An unending source of undefinable joy lingered about 
the hidden undercurrent of her being — a pleasure the heart 
can not know where the eyes are blind to the speaking, 
thrilling beauties of nature. 

She sang lovely selections in the midnight stillness of the 
little room, that thrilled her mother’s sensitive heart and 
banished all earthly fear. She arose from the stool, and 
reached over to the end of the piano fora selection of music; 
and in the instant sank to the floor with a quick cry of pain, 
and was silent. She had fainted. 

The terrified mother sprang to her side, and in a frenzy 
gathered her as a child to her bosom in a shower of tears. 
She agonized over the white, deathlike face, and the limp 
and motionless form in her lap. She was beside herself in 
the sudden, strange, harrowing bewilderment of the moment; 
and she poured upon her tender caresses, mingled with tears, 
rather than physical efforts of resuscitation. It was as if 
death had suddenly swooped down upon its tender victim, 


60 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


and ruthlessly torn from her clinging, loving heart-affection all 
that life held dear. Thus she was agonizing when a faint 
sigh seemed to escape the deathlike lips ; and then a faint 
flutter of the heart throbbed against her hand; then, at last, 
the lids of her eyes lifted ; and presently, in a faint voice, 
she asked why the mother drew her so closely to her breast. 
For answer the dazed mother showered kisses upon her soft 
face and lips, and drew her still closer to her beating heart, 
assured that she was her own living child again. From de- 
spair to hope was like a sudden torture and ecstasy of the 
soul that was more than human strength could bear; and so, 
in the reaction, the mother was helpless also. 

Thus the father found them as he entered the room un- 
announced. He comprehended the situation at a glance, 
and in his practical way speedily restored both to conscious 
helpfulness again. One lay now upon the easy lounge, and 
the other reclined in the soft rocking-chair, that their 
strained nerves might be controlled and strength regained. 

“ Tell us, Janie, the cause of your sudden faint,” the 
mother at last said, bracing herself in weakness in the chair. 
“ I have never had so great a shock. What was it?” 

“ When I reached out for a selection of music that lay 
on the end of the piano by the window, I saw a man’s face 
in a half mask pressed against the pane of glass. In the 
moment that I looked at him he darted away around tho 
corner of the house. I saw it all at a glance, and then lost 
consciousness. His presence was so startling and unexpected 
that, with the dread of evil that has come to the village, and 
the consciousness that bad men are about, I suppose I was 
overcome,” Janie explained in a languid, faltering way. 


A TOWN MEETING. 


61 


“ What did the man look like?” asked the father. 

“ He was large and well dressed.” 

“ You did not make out the color of his clothes, either, I 
suppose. It could not be expected,” he said, as if his mind 
was pursuing a phantom that had suddenly taken definite 
shape. 

“ Only that they were dark.” 

“Hark? You are sure of that?” 

“ Yes ; for the moonlight, as you see, is almost as clear as 
day, and he was plainly defined before the window.” 

“ Hid you notice any one with him?” 

“ No.” 

“ Strange things have come to our quiet and hitherto un- 
disturbed little place; and strange thoughts are shaping 
themselves also in the minds of even the dullest of our peo- 
ple,” said Mr. Allen, reflectively. 

“Have you suspicions, at last, that point to any single 
individual?” asked Mrs. Allen, with awakened curiosity. “ It 
may be we have all a lurking fear that we dread to name.” 

“ For many reasons I would not care to express my 
thoughts to-night,” Mr. Allen answered, looking significantly 
at the wife as a silent protest against the further probing of 
his suspicions ; and, to divert his wife’s mind from personal 
direction of the subject, he referred to the meeting, and 
talked over the many things that had been said, and by 
whom. In his narration he came at last to the little address 
of Charley Ludlow, and thoughtlessly referred to him before 
becoming conscious of the fact. Then it was too late to re- 
call his name. He spoke of the manner of its delivery, and 
of its impression upon the townsmen, who had dumbly list- 


62 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


cned to it, and then of his sudden disappearance from the 
hall, and of his evident indisposition to mingle with his old 
friends. “All this,” he explained, “ had been talked over, 
after the meeting, with as absorbing an interest as the ques- 
tion under discussion previously, leaving in the minds 
of all an undefined dread that closed every lip against the 
utterance of a name. And that is what I feel now,” said 
Mr. Allen, in conclusion. “ I do n’t like to speak a name 
under the circumstances. I would prefer definite proof 
betore accusing a townsman of crime.” 

“Yes, I thought as much!” quickly replied Mrs. Allen. 
“ I think we understand each other without being unjust to 
any one.” 

“ You are not speaking openly,” said Janie, who had been 
a silent listener until now. “ I have something I want to 
say that hurts me more than my present weakness — some- 
thing that did more than all else to cause my sudden faint. 
It was more than the fright. If I do not name it, I can not 
sleep to-night,” she added, in distress. 

“What is it, my dear?” anxiously asked the mother. 

“ O, the shadow of a fear that I may be wrong, and do an 
injustice to one I would shield and protect, restrains me,” she 
said, as the tears started to her eyes. “Ido not want to 
think evil of anyone — one especially with whom I have been 
raised,” she said, falteringly. 

The mother and father understood her meaning, and di- 
vined her thoughts clearly. The suspicions of all were alike, 
though no name had been spoken ; and the same dread sor- 
row had awakened to all hearts in the little room. 

“ To whom do you refer, Janie?” asked the father, coax- 


A TOWN MEETING, 


C 3 


ingly. “It can do no harm to speak the name now among 
ourselves. Wo all think alike, I am sure.” 

“ It will be better,” added the mother; “ in the fact that 
thus our burdens will be lifted, and we can better under- 
stand ourselves.” 

Then there was silence for a time, in which Janie lay 
motionless upon the lounge, her face buried in her handker- 
chief, her silent tears choking her speech. She was fighting 
with the secret love that had held her young womanhood 
enchained. She was now struggling to break the bonds. She 
could not love and doubt the character, she reasoned ; but 
could pity. So it was pity also with which she was con- 
tending. Confidence had been roughly overturned, and its 
disappointment entered wildly into the conflict. Her whole 
life was brought out of the past by a strange, quick impulse ot 
the memory; and hopes and air-castles that she had builded 
in her day-dreams were crumbling — all crumbling before 
her mental gaze at this moment. The future seemed to open 
before her as a new life, darkened and saddened by a deep 
shadow. To speak the name in her thoughts in such a con- 
nection would be to banish the past forever, she felt, and 
begin life anew. The heart demanded the complete etface- 
ment of his presence. 

She was aroused from her reverie by the touch of her 
mother’s soft hand, who had drawn her chair to her side and 
was silently commiserating her. She looked at her mother 
through tear-bedimmed eyes, with a faint smile upon her sad 
and gentle face. The dumb, questioning look of the mother 
seemed to arouse her faltering spirits ; and with an effort 
she arose from her reclining position, and sat up before her 


64 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


parents. She had resolved to be true to her impulses and 
the unswerving purity of her nature, and by the help of her 
mother’s soft hand, that seemed to give her courage in its 
clinging warmth, she said at last: 

“I am sure I recognized Charley Ludlow at the window. 
I knew him by his general appearance in the bright moon- 
light, though the face was partly hid. It could have been 
none other,” she said deliberately, sorrowfully. 

A deep silence settled like a dense shadow upon every 
heart, with Janie’s words. Suspicions had been confirmed; 
and the specter of a mother’s sorrow over the wreck of a 
cherished boy tortured their hearts as they sat silently and 
thought. Along with the mother’s sorrow came a still 
deeper trouble to Mr. and Mrs. Allen in the presence of their 
own child, their only tender plant of life. They knew that 
the village had set the two apart for each other, as by com- 
mon consent; and that, in their young anticipations, they 
had accepted the trust of each other’s lives without opposi- 
tion. It had become an accepted fact, without the need of 
solemn plighting. Now Mr. and Mrs. Allen were struggling 
with the dread that the heart of their Janie would be ter- 
ribly wounded. But an encouraging thought came to Mrs. 
Allen’s mind as she recalled the feeling of repulsion his 
actions of late had aroused in Janie’s mind. In her innate 
demand for honor and purity, where her gentle nature would 
suffer pain and death with anything less, she felt that an 
antidote was offered against the blight of sorrow and disap- 
pointment that had presented itself so suddenly. 

Mrs. Allen now referred to this delicately, hoping to 
arouse the sentiment for the sake of the present ordeal; but 


A TOWN MEETING. 


65 


the task was not so difficult as she had expected. Janie had 
already decided the question. Her decision had been reached 
by the change of his treatment of her. Her sensitive or- 
ganization had writhed under the torture of his disrespect, 
and coarse language, and impudent looks — all so new and 
pronounced of late. They had wrung her heart, and at the 
same time snapped, one after another, the ties that had 
bound him to her, until now little remained but pity, which 
lingered like a strange infatuation. These facts all appeared 
to the encouraged and reassured hearts of the loving parents, 
as they lingered upon the details of the confidential talk fol- 
lowing Janie’s statement. It ended, at last, in Janie’s firm 
assurance that Charley Ludlow had passed out of her life. 

It was midnight before they separated ; and then, with a 
calm contentment lingering about their hearts like the refine- 
ments of the perfect life beyond earthly degradation ; and 
it became as a silent benediction that lifted them above the 
material things that thieves can steal. 

5 




CHAPTER VI. 


Janie and Stella. 


FEW days after the midnight apparition, Janie and 



i \ Stella were again together, walking along the country 
road leading down the hillside. The last time they had 
leisurely sauntered along this dusty road was in the early 
spring, and then their arms were entwined about each othei 
lovingly, and nothing material had intruded to dim the 
bright sunlight of their girlish affection or confidence. Row 
it was the late fall of the year, and they were walking apart 
with sober faces, a shadow clinging to their burdened hearts. 
It was but a few brief months of interval, and yet long 
enough for strange awakenings to both. Neither Janie nor 
Stella felt or thought as they had done, in the beautiful 
springtime; and their conversation was now listless, and 
broken by many intervals of silence. Stella felt a reproach- 
ful conviction that a grim secret was separating her from 
Janie, in which a consciousness of deceit obtruded. Janie 
realized in her sensitive nature that Stella was changed, 
and that her loving tenderness had strangely departed. 


66 


JANIE AND STELLA. 


67 


Their silent heart -thoughts, on this beautiful Indian summer 
afternoon, partook of the somber-hued face of nature, that 
a few chilling frosts had changed from green to livid tints. 

In her silent moments Janie’s eyes wandered among the 
russet meadows and the barren hillsides, and she looked 
lingeringly upon the golden showers of falling leaves. The 
falling leaves were, like her own hopes, dropping silently 
before blighting adversity, that, like the chilling frost, had 
touched her heart, and left her thoughts somehow in the 
sear and yellow leaf. The bright sunbeams caressed her 
cheeks to-day with light and cooling pressure, and a vague 
sigh seemed to pervade the air for the departed glory of 
summer, and for the approach of winter, whose breath had 
blasted already the fair faces of her beautiful flowers. 

A deep sadness lingered about the hazy atmosphere, that 
drew a veil between her eyes and the distant perspective, 
and lingered in the heart, and left a mist before her future. 

Janie referred to the gloomy sentiment that the season 
had aroused, in a pensive way. She thought to touch Stella’s 
heart by the emotions she felt but could scarce describe. 
Stella listened without interest or reply. Then as Janie 
lapsed again into silence before her unappreciative manner, 
a cloud of impatience crossed Stella’s face, and she spoke 
abruptly : 

“ You grow more and more like the seasons of the year 
in your moods. Pity but you were a flower, rather than a 
woman ; then you would be a part of nature as you now 
seem a child of the changing seasons. You would occupy a 
more natural place in nature.” 

This was said with a voice that sounded harsh and acri- 


68 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


monious to Janie. It was a meaningless complaint; but it 
changed the current of Janie’s thoughts, as if she had been 
suddenly turned about in her gaze from somber hues to res- 
urrected beauties. 

“After the sleep of winter, the heart of nature will throb 
again, and gentle showers will bring life back to the lovely 
faces that are drooping nowon blighted stems,” she thought, 
hopefully. 

“I wish you knew what I feel, Stella!” she replied, with 
an earnest and plaintive voice. 

“ Perhaps no one but yourself can know that, for there 
is no one like you,” she replied, impatiently. “ The real- 
ities of life are, seemingly, of less moment than mist, and 
haze, and dead leaves, and barren fields, and flowerless 
stalks. O, you are so trying!” she concluded, walking on 
alone for a time. 

Janie followed slowly, wondering still more why Stella 
had become so impatient with her. “ Perhaps I am moody 
and uncompanionable,” she complained to herself. Then, as 
a whisper, her eager yearning for the love of her friend 
breathed from her lips : “As the sun in its glowing warmth 
is comforting to my physical senses, so is the love of my 
friends to my burdened heart. Stella must not dislike me.” 

“ Stella,” she called, tenderly. 

Stella paused, and turned to her in a speechless way. 

“Wait for me, please. Do n’t be so quiet.” 

“ I do n’t want to talk about gloomy things,” she said, 
petulantly. “I want to be rid of such thoughts. They 
harass me.” 

“ Well : I will shut my eyes to everything about me, and 


JANIE AND STELLA. 


69 


think only of you,” Janie answered, taking Stella’s hand in 
her own, and continuing their slow and aimless walk. 

“Are you ever a prey to somber thoughts, Stella? I 
thought you too happy for that,” Janie said, looking ear- 
nestly into Stella’s face. 

“ I am that now,” Stella answered, harshly. 

“I am sorry,” Janie said, sympathetically. “ I hope not 
because of anything I have done.” 

“No; and yet I am made unhappy, because I am 
dragged into your affairs against my wishes.” 

“My affairs, Stella? I can not understand.” 

“As they apply to Charley Ludlow,” Stella answered by 
a struggle. 

“Please be plain with me, Stella,” said Janie, feeling her- 
self trembling before her friend. 

11 He insists that I can make you love him ; and that it is, 
in some way, my business to do so.” 

“ But he has passed entirely out of my life, Stella. What 
he can not now do, you certainly can not,” Janie answered, 
with a calm look that could not be misinterpreted. “ Our 
former conversation, in the garden, was intended to be clear 
upon that point,” she said. 

“ But he will not accept your reproaches. He clings to 
the delusion that you do not know your own mind long at a 
time. He fancies that I am a necromancer to charm away 
your whims,” she said, with a bitter laugh. 

“ My determination is irrevocable,” answered Janie, with 
a decision, of which Stella would have thought her incapable. 
“He can be no more to me hereafter than an indifferent 
acquaintance, if that.” 


70 


A CHILD OF NATURE . 


Stella looked away from Janie, not wishing to betray her 
own exultant feelings, lest her heart-thoughts should be ex- 
posed. She was playing a game with Janio and Charley 
both, that neither could understand; and yet working out 
her own designs, as she thought, with a magician’s power 
and skill. As Janie had spoken, now, with even more of an 
uncompromising assurance than in the garden, she could 
safely play the part of mediator, she thought, and thus pose 
in the light of disinterested friendship, and bo valued by 
both without reproaches, whatever the result. It was a self- 
satisfying thought to her. Her few trials at deceit had been 
so satisfying that now they became a pleasure sought by 
preference. Is it not so with temptation always? It is in 
the yielding to it that it becomes alluring. So Stella now 
toyed with the sentiment that at first had touched her 
conscience with smiting reproaches. 

“ Come, Janie,” she said, with more of a manner of warmth 
and affection than before to-day; “you must not be unjust 
in your judgments of Charley. As a friend to both of you, 
I can say that you ought to return his faithful love. He is 
worthy of you.” 

Janie shook her head, silently. 

“ You may think yourself better than he, Janie, and still 
be wrong,” a shade of her former coldness returning. 

“ I make no such' claim.” 

“Nothing heretofore offered will justify your tormenting 
stubbornness. It can only be caprice.” 

Janie was momentarily disconcerted by Stella’s aggra- 
vating manner, more than by her w T ords. Seemingly she 
would not be turned from her irritable way. In its presence 


JANIE AND STELLA. 


71 


Janie became unspeakably unhappy, but kindly she re- 
plied : 

“ You are unjust to me, Stella.’* 

“Rather, it is you who are doubly unjust to yourself, 
and Charley Ludlow as well.” 

“ Let me explain, Stella. I want to be just to every one, 
as you know. You are inclined, of late, to see only occa- 
sion for censure in me. It is so strange.” 

“But that is no explanation. A counter charge has no 
reference to our subject,” Stella answered, with an exultant 
look at Janie’s embarrassment. Then, to torture her still 
more, she unfeelingly said : “ But it is just like you — incon- 
sistent as well as unjust.” 

Janie met Stella’s stony look with one of surprise. It 
grew, as Stella gazed upon her, into a placid rigidness of 
features, upon which an expression of gentle tenderness 
rested, like a halo reflected from the pure heart within. 
Stella mutely wondered at the change, and involuntarily ex- 
claimed : 

“You look like the narcissus, just awaked from the chill 
of winter 1” 

Janie’s face broke into a smile with the delicate refer- 
ence, so altogether unexpected, and she, impulsively an- 
swered : 

“ Do not let us be harsh with each other, Stella ; for it is 
useless to say anything more about Charley Ludlow. Our 
lives have grown apart by slow degrees during the past 
months, and events have occurred lately that have suddenly 
opened a deep gulf between us, which can never be bridged. 
My resolution is final and irrevocable.” 


72 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


To Janie’s intrepid words were added a play of emotions 
that lingered about her beautiful features, and made her even 
more lovely than ever before to Stella. Stella was not, in 
the moment, jealous of this glowing beauty, lost, as she was, 
in the satisfying assurance that Charley could be none other 
than her own henceforth. She felt an assurance of posses- 
sion in him that she had not known before. She had played 
with Janie’s feelings, and had tortured or pleased at her 
will. It was delightful. There arose to her mind Janie’s 
last words, “a late occurrence ” and “ a gulf” 

“ You said something had happened lately.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Something I do not know?” 

“ Yes.” 

“What is it?” Stella asked, eagerly. 

“1 had intended never mentioning it; but somehow you 
seem to bring out even my secret thoughts as they apply to 
Charley.” 

Stella laughed as if her self-pride had been deeply grat- 
ified. “I did not know before that I had a controlling in- 
fluence over other natures. You flatter me! But what of 
the occurrence?” 

“Have you seen Charley since the citizen’s meeting?” 
Janie asked, guardedly. 

“ Ho ; I have not, indeed !” 

“ Well, he was at that meeting and made a brief speech ; ' 
and then suddenly disappeared from it; and then, in a mask, 
appeared before our library window in the glare of the full 
moon. I was so overcome with affright that I fainted,” 
Janie said slowly, and with a look of unhappiness. 


JANIE AND STELLA. 


73 


In an instant Stella was convulsed with indignation. A 
deep flush spread over her face, that seemed to invade the 
eyes, and creep down her shapely neck beneath the folds of 
her dress, that rose and fell with hurried breaths. She 
seemed to struggle with herself for utterance. 

“ Do you now insinuate, in addition to your other bitter 
reproaches, that Charley Ludlow is the thief who has been 
harassing our village of late? For shame! It is an indig- 
nity unworthy of you ! Pity but he could be here to de- 
fend himself ! It is a stab in the back ! I did not think you 
capable of such — ” And she paused, as if halting on the 
edge of a precipice, before making the final leap into the 
gulf of disrupted friendship. 

Janie stood motionless, as if awaiting calmly the dread 
announcement that would doom their strained friendship to 
a rude severance. But Stella did not speak the word ; her 
momentary pause had given time for a second thought. In- 
stead she tremblingly said : 

“ It was but the specter of your morbid suspicions.” 

“ No, Stella ; I was not mistaken.” 

“ O, I forgot. You could not be! It would not be pos- 
sible for you to be mistaken !” Stella replied, bitterly. 

“ Though his face was hid, his form betrayed him ; and to 
my quick glance in the clear moonlight, he stood revealed be- 
fore me in the familiarity of my lifelong acquaintanceship. 
My heart could easily look through the mask to his shrink- 
ing face and cowering conscience,” Janie replied, calmly. 

“And all this was done in the instant of fainting. Won- 
drous powers of intuition and divination !” retorted Stella, 
with a look of hate. “ You should pose for second sight.” 


74 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


Stung by the bitter reproach, Janie, in her effort to be 
calm, answered with a struggle : 

“All came to me in an instant, Stella; and more than the 
presence of the man — my confirmed suspicions that his past 
actions were a reproach, unnerved me, and I lost myself in 
the shock. The faint came after the quick operations of the 
mind,” she anxiously explained. 

“ O yes ! A very clear explanation indeed ! A very sat- 
isfactory one — perhaps — to yourself! You would find it 
difficult, however, to make others believe your unjust sus- 
picions — the persecution of an old friend.” 

“ I am not persecuting.” 

“ O no ; you could not ! Excuse me ! I forgot that it 
was to you I am talking ! You could not persecute ! What 
do you call injuring one’s character by suspicions ?” asked 
Stella, turning a fierce look upon Janie. 

“Again, Stella, I am dealing with facts — not suspicions,” 
she pleaded, as against Stella’s unrelenting reproaches. “ You 
will find that I am doing him no injustice, in the future. I 
will leave all to that.” 

Janie was not the equal of Stella in a battle of words. 
She could not deal with bitter reproaches; but aimed to sub- 
due herself, and be just. She realized her inequality of po- 
sition now, for the reason that Stella would not credit her 
statements, or believe that anything but unreasoning preju- 
dice had moved her. Stella had blindly championed Char- 
ley’s conduct; and it was plain that, though a voice from 
another world should proclaim the facts, she would not be- 
lieve. Janie felt, therefore, that she could do no more than 
rest now under Stella’s reproaches, patiently awaiting the 


JANIE AND STELLA. 


75 


stern confirmation of the future. But it was harrowing that 
their long friendship should now be suddenly disrupted. 
Janie clung to their girlish and lifelong affection, and her 
heart was storm-tossed with emotions in the presence of 
what seemed to await her. 

As by common consent both lapsed now into deepest si- 
lence, a prey to conflicting thoughts. Then Stella assumed 
an air of bold defiance. Her hardened moral sensibilities, 
the acquirement of a few brief months of toying with sin, 
had blinded her to the purity and chastity of the gentle 
heart of her friend. 

“ You have, in the years past, encouraged Charley to love 
you,” she said, bitterly. “ He has loved you, not doubting the 
sincerity of your actions. Through some sentimental whim 
•you now cast him off, as if a thing of degradation. Your 
actions have sent him into a downward course, if it be true 
that he is pursuing evil, which I do not believe. It is you 
who are responsible for his life,” Stella said, with reproachful 
looks added to her bitter taunts. 

“I have no words of defense against your reproaches, 
Stella,” Janie answered. “ You have heard my reasons for 
not loving him. You know we have never been plighted. 
You know that his moral responsibility is to his God, and 
that the suspicions of his friends antedate my change of 
heart towards him. I owe something to my own character 
that can not be intrusted to his changed actions. To be 
worthy of a good woman’s love he ought to be above re- 
proach. That is the way to merit loyal love — not to pursue 
evil first, and then excuse his acts by hiding behind an un- 
manly statement that he is justified by the lack of a woman’s 


76 


A CHILD OF NATURE . 


love. He makes himself unworthy of it. Let every man 
first merit what he seeks; for that is the honorable way.” 

Janie spoke so calmly that Stella was confused by the 
conviction her words had forced upon her. She could not 
reason from such a view of her friend’s actions. She was ex- 
cited, and grew momentarily more defiant of Janie’s friend- 
ship, which had hitherto constrained her words to a degree. 

“ It is you who are unworthy of him ! He would but 
waste himself upon your cold heart. You have not the 
trusting warmth of nature to help any one. I can tes- 
tify to that,” said Stella, with a look of contempt towards her 
friend. “ I will love him, and give what you do not possess — a 
trustful heart. 1 will lift him out of the mire into which 
your unjust suspicions have plunged him. I love him as 
you can not love any one — with my whole heart;” and then, 
with a reckless exposure of herself, said, with an intense, 
eagerness of manner that had never before appeared to 
Janie: “I have loved him for years, and have never in- 
tended that he should be yours 1” 

Stella had spoken under the unguarded impulse of 
passion. Her words could not be recalled. She was even 
indifferent as to their effect, knowing that Janie did not now 
stand between her love. With a mist before her eyes, and 
a tremor of her uplifted hand, she defiantly continued: 

“Your friendship to me is no longer a matter of the least 
consideration. I can do without it! I don’t want it!” and, 
with a look that long after stared Janie in the face, she left 
the side of her friend and walked away alone. 

Janie was paralyzed for a time in the realization of 
Stella’s deceitful ness, her undisguised hatred, and defiant 


JANIE AND STELLA. 


77 


declaration of love. She felt that their girlish love had been 
rudely shattered upon the unworthy actions of a childhood 
friend; and that henceforth their pathways must be apart. 
It was a final step. She could not do other than she had 
done, and be true to her womanhood. Her head sank upon 
her breast, and hot tears flowed as from a fount to wash 
away the pain and heal the wound that Stella had made. 




CHAPTER YII. 

Conclusions Reached, 

T HE sighing winds and chilling air of bleak November 
had deepened the somber tones of leafless nature. The 
meteorological forces of the extremes of north and south 
contended for the mastery in this median latitude, and 
human nature shivered in the varying changes the while. 
Through some long winters the soft airs of the sunny South 
prevailed that banished ice and cold with gentle puffs of 
grateful heat. At other times the biting, roaring winds of 
the frigid North plunged upon the battle-ground, and swept 
every soft breath far into its own stronghold of the tropics, 
and reveled in icy fetters. The present promised such a 
winter. Winds and snow and cold had invaded the Ohio 
Yalley early, and with resistless force. 

Janie felt the chilling touch in her sensitive nature, and 
through the windows of her home looked longingly upon the 
bleak landscape that even now had a strange fascination ; and 

in her heart felt the still more chilling touch of blighted affec- 
78 


CONCLUSIONS REACHED. 


79 


tions, and through the windows of the soul gazed longingly 
upon its withering desolation. She had for the first time 
lost the love of a dear friend, and the vacant place in her 
heart was an aching void. Iler thoughts partook of the 
somber season in their gloomy impersonation of nature’s 
dreary features. She was thoughtfully pensive in the rec- 
ollections her memory ever recalled of the waywardness of 
a childhood companion — one whom she had once loved, but 
who was now unworthy, and a menace to womanly purity. 
She thought of the deceitful treachery of another childhood 
friend, who had betrayed friendship for a tainted love that 
promised only unhappiness and lifelong wretchedness. She 
could not shield those friends now from trouble, as she craved 
to do, her thoughts picturing the chilling blasts of winter 
tearing at the green verdure of their hearts. In bitter an- 
guish she agonized since their feet were already treading the 
slippery path of sin, where remorse and sorrow only awaited 
them. And so the winter’s gloom and her heart-sorrows 
left her gentle spirit anxious and oppressed. All that was 
left to her were the prayers she daily offered for them to the 
God whose face she ever beheld shining through her beloved 
nature. 

Janie and Stella had never spoken since their sad separa- 
tion on the dusty roadside. Stella had passed her upon the 
street, but unnoticed, and with a face of unrelenting hatred. 
To Janie, this was hard to bear in her forgiving disposition, 
and in the assurance that she had not embittered Stella’s 
heart intentionally. She could not look into her old friend’s 
heart and read there the motives, or behold the tumult of 
desires that had controlled her actions. But she, in time, 


80 


A CHILD OF NA TURK. 


accepted the new condition, and ceased to look into tho 
passing face for a relenting forgiveness, the hope of which 
she had long clung to. 

Janie was living a life of still closer relationship with her 
mother now, who knew her daughter’s secret thoughts as by 
a subtle intuition. She sheltered her heart from trouble, 
and guided her spirit by gentle words of consolation and 
encouragement, and nurtured her with the tenderness of a 
delicate plant; but she could not ward off unseen trials. 
Others awaited her which her tender solicitude could not 
foresee. 

In the dusk of one of those gloomy days, Janie was re- 
turning from a lengthened visit to one of her friends. She 
thought nothing of the darkness that had closed about her, 
nor of the deserted streets, from which the cold night air had 
driven every one to the shelter of the fireside. Leisurely 
she pursued her way in the dim glare of fitful streams of 
feeble light that looked through windows from shaded lamps 
within. Before a lonely vacant lot that widely separated 
two humble homes, she was suddenly and abruptly confronted 
by a man, whose face was half-concealed by a soft hat that 
was drawn down over his eyes and the upper part of the 
face. He seemed to stagger before her as he roughly accosted 
her by name. 

“Ah, Janie, my dear, I — I ’m so glad to see you ! Shake 
hands, petl” he said, with leering eyes close to her own. 
She felt his foul breath in her face, and shudderingly shrank 
away from him. 

“Hone of that, now, dear! You must listen to me!” he 
exclaimed, taking hold of her arm to detain her. “I — I 


CONCLUSIONS REACHED. 


81 


want to talk to you, pet, and have an understanding. You 
know who I am, my little sweetheart,” he added, laughing 
in a maudlin, drunken way. 

“Let me go, Charley Ludlow!” she pleaded, piteously. ■ 

“ No. You ’ve got to hear me, now. You ’ve been cold 
and slighting long enough. I have claims on you, and I — 
I’m going to press them now. Do you hear?” he said 
roughly, tottering before her upon his unsteady feet. 

“ If you must talk to me, meet me like a gentleman at 
my home!” gasped Janie, tremblingly. 

“No! Eight here — here is the best place! Janie Allen, 
you know I love you; I can not live without you ! You 
have got to be my dear, dear little wife! Do you hear?” 
and in a rude laughter he lost his hold of her arm. 

In the instant she started to run, but he quickly detected 
the movement and caught her dress. 

“Now, look here, none of that! none of that! Not so 
fast. Do n’t be afraid of your old sweetheart. I won’t 
hurt you. I want an understanding, that ’s what I want!’’ 

Janie stood trembling before him. She had forgotten to 
cry aloud in her fright. Instead she pleaded : 

“ O, let me go to my home, Charley Ludlow ! If you care 
for me, let me go, please ! ” 

But he only tightened his grip, and with his released 
hand sought to take her own ; but she struggled against his 
approach until he desisted. 

“ Come now, Janie,” he said coaxingly, “do n’t be afraid 
of me, dear. I won’t hurt you, you timid little thing. I 
love you, and would die for you!” he exclaimed, with tears 
starting from his liquor-relaxed eyelids. 

6 


82 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“If you love me, let me gol” Janie said, with more de- 
cision, in the encouragement his drunken words had given 
that he would not do her violence. 

“ Yes, dear ; you may go when you say you will be my 
little wife,” he answered, with a renewed effort of repulsive 
affection. 

“ Though you kill me, I would never do so ! I scorn you, 
drunken, degraded man that you prove yourself! If you 
have one spark of manhood left, for your poor mother’s 
sake, let me go, and reform your ways ! I would die before 
1 would have anything to do with you!” Janie said, as if a 
torrent of indignation had burst its bonds. 

lie was sobered for the moment by her unexpected words. 

“O! that is your conclusion, is it? and that is the way 
you return my love?” he said, almost fiercely. “You will 
ruin me if you cast me off. I have no other hope.” 

“And you would drag others down to your mire of sin !” 
Janie said, with fierce indignation. “A man that can not 
respect his widowed mother, can have respect for no other 
woman on earth, and is not deserving of any. Take your 
hand from my dress !” she said, in perfect forgetfulness of 
self, and with such a commanding voice that he instinctively 
obeyed. He was cowed by her decision of character, and 
her reference to his mother, which was like a stunning blow 
in the face 

He stood before her dazed in the drunken self-conviction 
to which her brave words had condemned him. He made 
no effort to detain her as she rapidly fled from him. She 
had strength to reach her home and open the door, and then 
sank at her mother’s feet speechless and breathless. 


CONCLUSIONS REACHED. 


83 


It was some time before she could tell the particulars to 
her father and mother. It wag done in broken language 
and distressing sobs. When the father realized the full 
force of the insult thus offered to his daughter, he hastily 
buttoned his great coat about him and quickly fled into the 
darkness. Yainly he wandered through the silent and de- 
serted streets of the village, overlooking not even an alley- 
way. He called at the lonely widow’s home, and asked for 
the son ; but the haggard face sitting there before the em- 
bers of a fire, could give but a dumb reply as she silently 
shook her head to his inquiry. Her heart was breaking in 
the solitude of her room, and the desolation of crushed hopes 
that she had cherished above discouragment. Late in the 
night Mr. Allen returned to his home, disappointed that the 
object of his solicitude had eluded him 

Ludlow stood motionless, watching Janie’s flight, and in 
bewilderment thought of her purity, for which he even now 
had a profound respect, and realized that she had finally and 
forever passed beyond his reach. It was a deep sorrow that 
lingered in the conviction that his only anchor had gone, 
and that he was now adrift helplessly on the wild waves of 
sin. A reckless abandonment of feeling swept over him in 
his silent reverie, that fairly aroused him from his drunken 
imbecility, restoring him to his senses again. In his awak- 
ing moments he understood that he had forever compro- 
mised himself, and that no explanation could atone for the 
brutal exhibition that had exposed the low condition to 
which he had sunk, even in his own estimation. His true 
character was at last known to the only one of earth whom 
he respected — the one to whom he would not have so 


84 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


appeared. With a deep-drawn sigh he relaxed all hold upon 
the past, and wept — man as he was — bitter tears. They 
were the last traces of his former manhood that flared up 
for a moment, before extinction. With the sorrow came a 
thought of Stella. It was like a faint ray of light breaking 
through the black gloom. He halted in his self-torture, and 
pondered the thought that, though all others of his child- 
hood memories had turned their faces against him, she alone 
clung to him, and offered a trace of love and respect. But the 
thought brought no heartfelt pleasure. It was something he 
had not sought and did not cherish. He would go to her, 
however, as a solace against his bitter self-reproaches. From 
the one, of whose love and respect he now felt unworthy, 
he would go to the other who inspired neither respect nor 
offered a check to undue freedom of actions. But in her 
presence he would forget himself and be diverted. He 
had so far sobered, when he knocked at her door, as to 
appear in much of his usual manner; though his eyes were 
bloodshot and somewhat leering still, with the rank, re- 
pulsive odor of liquor clinging like an atmosphere to his 
presence. 

• Stella met him with her usual intense reception, and per- 
mitted him to kiss her lips. She did not shrink from his 
unlicensed advances. She looked upon his haggard face, 
and constrained manner, and unkempt appearance, and 
bleared eyes, unreproachfully. She was ready to excuse 
them all; for her yielding spirit and indulgent acts would 
prove her love, she thought. It did not seem to dawn upon 
her clouded mind that disrespect, instead of love, would be 
fostered; that even the lowest of men admire and honor 


CONCLUSIONS REACHED. 


85 


womanly purity and self-respect; that only the grosser na- 
ture is indulged in their absence, which leads irrevocably to 
contempt, hatred, and blighting sorrow. She would blindly 
sacrifice herself for his unworthy love, and suffer cruel spurn- 
ing as a reward. How many shipwrecked lives — once lovely 
lives ; how many unmarked graves and broken hearts that 
have been left behind ; how many low, shameless, shrinking, 
haggard faces that shun the light of day, — attest the truth 
that self-immolation for man’s love is a delusion ! Veneration 
for womanly purity of heart and actions rises as certainly 
from the pollution of degradation as from the sheltering 
love of irreproachable manhood. Stella did not think that 
to gain a man’s true love was first to gain his respect. The 
process follows moral laws as certainly as our little globe 
the laws of physical nature. Janie would have said : 
“ Spurn the man that would dare trespass upon true wo- 
manly delicacy and gentle refinement. No love without 
chivalric loyalty to woman’s gentle nature as a protector, 
rather than an invader.” 

It is not our purpose to look upon them in their even- 
ing’s association ; but rather to witness the final conclusions 
reached in moral weakness to-night, that will shape and 
shadow their future to the grave. As this night had already 
solved the life-question between Janie and Ludlow, so it was 
destined to conclude that between Stella and Ludlow. One 
was a happy, blessed escape ; the other, a bondage that could 
have no release from misery and degradation. To both 
women had been given equal opportunities of looking upon 
the man ; and his character was equally clear to both. But 
their views and motives were diametrically opposed. Char- 


86 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


acter, in one case, decided the issue — facial beauty, Apollo- 
like proportions, and a smooth tongue decided the other in 
the face of moral weakness. 

As the night waned, Charley said to Stella: 

“I have, at last, given up all thought of Janie Allen. I 
am satisfied to think of her as dead hereafter.” 

Stella’s look assured him that she ..approved his words. 

“She is dead to me, also,” she answered. “We broke 
friendship long ago, and do not recognize each other now. 
She is too whimsical patiently to endure, and too bitter against 
you to suffer longer. She ought to be nothing to either of 
us ;” and then with a look that craved approval, she added, 
eagerly : “ I can not be a friend to those who are unfriendly 
to you.” 

In a selfish way he but half-heartedly replied : 

“ Thank you, Stella,” and then, with an intently gloomy 
look, added: “ I have no friends on earth to-night.” 

“And, pray, what am I? Do you count me nothing?” 
replied Stella, quickly and desperately. 

“ Forgive me, Stella. I do n’t mean you. My words did 
not apply to you. Please do not hold me accountable to- 
night for what I say. You are all that is left to me. You 
will not desert me, and cast me off; will you, Stella?” 

“Never!” she said, impetuously. 

“And you will share my life and its chances with me?” 
he eagerly asked, as if just awaking to a sense of depend- 
ence upon her. 

“ Yes.” 

“And lovingly draw me back from the despair which is 
closing about me?” 


CONCLUSIONS REACHED . 


87 


“ Yes,” she answered ; “ I will shield you from trouble, 
and my love will lift you up again to the proud place 
you once maintained among your friends. I will exert a 
woman’s power !” she said, with proud confidence. 

He looked at her steadily, as if weighing in his mind the 
remnant that was left of his former manhood ; and wondered 
if woman’s power could change his desires and passions that 
had now bound him with iron-like fetters. 

O, how many young women have relied upon love and 
woman’s powers for the reformation of men, only to awake, 
at last, to a thralldom worse than death — an agonizing dis- 
appointment that has made the grave a welcome refuge 1 It 
is an awful delusion to which to awake at last in sorrow. 

But Stella lacked the pure moral impulses that had ever 
characterized Janie’s motives — the only real safeguards that 
stand between women and degradation. Stella felt in this 
moment an exultant feeling, that she had at last gained the 
object for which she had intrigued, and that it was a triumph 
over her old friend. 

When Charley was about to leave her, late in the night, 
she asked if he would not see her on the morrow. 

“ Ho,” was his reply, “ I must be in the city early in the 
morning.” 

“And do you not see your mother again before you go?” 

“ No,” he said ; “ she does not know that I am here, and 
will be none the wiser if I do not go to her to-night.” 

A shadow of unspeakable disappointment crossed Stella’s 
burdened heart at thought of the heartlessness embodied in 
the reply ; for she knew of the lonely, heart-broken mother’s 
clinging sorrow for the absent son. 


88 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“And why so urgent a call to the city?” she asked sadly. 

“ Because, I must not be seen here now,” he replied, with 
a look of self-reproach. 

A still deeper shadow crossed her heart like a torturing 
pang, in the appalling conviction that rose like a horrid 
specter before her that he dared not, because of the evil he 
had done. “And after all, the sense of possession of the 
loved one now does not preclude the shadow of suspicion 
that all is not well from creeping into my heart,” she 
thought, with sickening, tantalizing misgivings. She stood 
before him, sobered and humbled. 

“ Will you not, to-night, Charley, tell me your business? 
You know that now I have a right to it. I have never in- 
truded upon your affairs before, but have trusted you, and 
believed that all was right, though you have ever main- 
tained an unbroken silence. What are you doing, dear?” 
she asked, pleadingly. 

He faltered, and stammered, and then would have 
harshly denied her ; but a falling tear from her overburdened 
eyelids appealed to his deadened sympathy, and he said : 

“ My business is in the pool-rooms — and — other things I 
can not well explain. You will know more of them in the 
future.” 

Stella did not understand the significance of his words, 
but he had replied to her question, and that was enough. 
She was satisfied, though pained by emotions she had never 
before realized. 


CHAPTER YIII. 


A. New Friend. 



l HE chill and somber fall had crept slowly into mid- 


1 winter, and nature had assumed another phase of beauty. 
It was the white, crisp snow that now enveloped nature, as 
young womanly purity beautifies the human exterior. Softly 
the crystal flakes had fallen one by one, and deepened its 
mantle until spreading a foot in depth over all the far-reaching 
landscape. Trees were laden, and their outstretching branches 
bent beneath their glittering burdens, and the leafless stocks 
of protruding weeds stood with heads bent to the white sea 
beneath. Not a bare furrow or stubble-covered field but was 
hid beneath the mantle of spotless white. To Janie, all was 
matchless beauty ; and it prefigured her own spotless purity 
of character. As the spring’s warm and resurrecting touch 
seemed to exalt her, so, in the presence of the silent, repose- 
ful purity of snow-covered winter, her heart felt a gratifying 
sense of nearness to the great, untainted, and spotless heart 
of the God of all. From her windows she strove to catch, 
in imitative colors, the winter shadows that lay in tints of 


89 


90 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


umber and crimson among the fields’ uneven surfaces, linger- 
ing here and there as a parting legacy from the sun’s declin- 
ing face sinking beneath a crimson horizon. Her beautiful 
water-colors were faint pictures, in dull colors, of a living 
beauty that only the sensitive heart can feel, attuned to a 
love for the Hand that has so prodigally scattered them. 

As she vainly strove to catch these living, divinely- 
touched beauties about her, her heart felt that the painter’s 
true artistic inspiration must shine onto the canvas through 
a love for the God who ever bewilders by effects he impo- 
tently strives to imitate. The canvas could be but masses of 
dull color without the luminous beauty of divinely-touched 
nature lighting up the colors. And what is nature without this 
divine beauty looking through it? An incomprehensible 
jumble of chance-work, from which the human reason re- 
volts. “ What is nature but the expression of the Divine 
Mind?” Janie always thought as she lovingly contemplated 
it. “ It is a vast, living, moving, complex system, exalted by 
thought, and following a destiny fixed by a Great Will that 
can have no part in chance,” she reasoned. Through the 
avenues of music and painting and her love of nature, ex- 
alted by God’s presence, her heart was lifted to a plane of 
happiness altogether above and beyond the reach of sin. To 
her the artistic sense could not be material ; it could not be 
a chance grouping of atoms, but had its birth where divine 
laws had emanated. Janie, in her reverential reasoning, 
could not think as Stella, or follow like impulses. They 
were not equally moved by moral influences ; their possession 
beautified one life, their absence dragged the other into the 
mire of sin and the hopelessness of despair. 


A NEW FRIEND. 


91 


Social pleasures are cultivated in winter. The cheerful 
fireside and its comforting warmth are attractive. Homes, 
upon the hilltops and in the valley of the great city, 
were aglow now with light, cheerful with music, fra- 
grant with flowers, and beautiful with social entertain- 
ment, though the frigid winter without repelled with its 
shivering chill. Upon a cold, crisp night, muffled in its 
mantle of snow, a select company were gathered within the 
hospitable mansion of one of Cincinnati’s wealthiest and 
most refined people. Janie was of the company. The en- 
tertainment was purely social, in which an hour or more at 
the laden table, and lovely music, and the conversational, 
engrossed the night. 

Janie here met, for the first time, Professor Luther Went- 
worth, a gentleman of whom she had often heard. He was 
her escort to the table. He was a young man of fine pres- 
ence, with a pale, studious, thoughtful cast of countenance. 
It was such a face as attracts the gaze in a vain effort to ana- 
lyze the features in explanation of its attractiveness. It was 
indescribably interesting where the rugged, manly forces of 
nature stood out most prominently. It was a perplexing 
face, beautified by a refined intellectuality that seemed to 
illuminate it, and soften its rugged outlines into tender trac- 
ings. An explanation of only such general outlines as a first 
glance can give will be attempted. The expression beau- 
tifying the face can not be described. His forehead was 
high and broad, with heavy eyebrows arched above soft-brown 
eyes, set well back between prominent cheek-bones and sen- 
sitive nostrils, and a refined mouth above a firm chin. These 
are only the salient outlines of a face upon which the fasci- 


92 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


nating play of human emotions dwelt, flashing from the 
depths of a gentle and emotional nature and a keenly-culti- 
vated intellect. 

The two had grown in intimacy as the hour passed, and 
it did not seem unnatural for him to say to Janie towards its 
close : “ 1 deeply regret not to have met you before to-night ; 
for it is my last night of pleasure before a long and possibly 
dangerous journey, upon which I start on the day after the 
morrow.” 

Then, to her inquiry, he stated that he had a roving com- 
mission from the Government, which would take him to un- 
frequented parts of the world ; that he would first go to the 
Delta of the Lena, then among the Ural Mountains, and 
thence to the steppes and deserts of Turkistan. 

“And alone?” Janie asked, with a questioning look. 

“ Yes, alone !” 

“ But do you not dread to venture among the dangers 
and half-savage people you will meet?” she asked, with an 
anxious expression. 

“ That thought I have never entertained,” he replied, re- 
flectively, as if awaking to it now for the first time. 

“ But still, it seems marvelous that you should venture 
alone,” she answered as in sympathy. 

For a moment he halted before the thought he would ex- 
press ; then in a gentle voice he said : 

“ While I go alone, Miss Allen, it is only so far as human 
companionship is concerned. I have always company in the 
presence of Him who has said : ‘ I will not leave thee, nor 
forsake thee.’ ” 


A NEW FRIEND. 


93 


A beautiful smile broke upon Janie’s face like a rift of 
sunlight through clouds. Her lip quivered at the allusion 
which had suddenly touched her own tender love for the 
God of her cherished nature. She saw in the manner of the 
friend before her that no affectation was hid beneath his 
words. 

“ I am satisfied,” she gently answered, a look of trustful- 
ness lingering in her gaze. 

Then he continued : 

“ My object is the flora, especially of those parts of the 
world. I am eager to know what beautiful species are thus 
hid from our knowledge. It may be that I will find some 
new beauty of the Creator’s work. For that I do not count 
toil and danger by the way,” he said, with that inexpressible 
beauty of features before alluded to. 

Janie’s gaze lingered upon the play of his mobile features 
as if to fathom the clear depths of a heart that could be so 
reflected upon the human face. “ It is true,” she thought in 
the moment, “ the face is an open portraiture of the soul, 
beautified by moral purity, or impressed by every grade of 
sin, down to the dregs of degradation.” 

Janie read the human face by intuition, and it became an 
evidence that satisfied her reason, proving the presence and 
truth of moral forces in life mingling in human destiny. It 
was, to her, a consistent chain of reasoning, that was alto- 
gether more convincing than the metaphysical; for it had 
the satisfaction of demonstrable truth lifted above the realm 
of conjecture. 

In the perfect confidence which such thoughts inspired 


94 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


in the presence of his pure face, she felt strangely at ease 
with him; and with the feeling came also a deep concern 
over the imagined dangers she thought awaited him beyond 
the bounds of refined civilization, and she said, with a shade 
of anxiety still resting on her face : 

“ But it would be so much better if you could have a kin- 
dred spirit as a companion in your dangers.” 

“ Yes, a companion would be pleasant, I grant; especially 
when the lonely nights will leave me isolated from the 
world. But the task is such that two can not well enter 
into it, and it is too attractive to give up for self-comfort,” 
he answered, with forced resolution, and then added : “ It 
will not, however, be for long !” 

“How long?” Janie eagerly asked. 

“ Only about eight months. Should I meet with no ob- 
structions from suspicious Russia, I will have completed my 
task by the next August. I may do so at an earlier date; 
for, with the official papers with which I am provided, I 
think no obstruction can arise.” 

Janie could not suppress the kind wish that gently 
knocked at the door of her lips for utterance, and she feel- 
ingly replied : 

“ You have my best wishes for the perfect success of your 
undertaking.” 

This was said in a natural and gentle way, that the pro- 
fessor instantly thought would have been offered sponta- 
neously to any other one under like circumstances. But 
still it gave him especial pleasure. 

He could not leave the subject 'without referring to 
the flowers he loved so dearly. In some strange way he 


A NEW FRIEND. 


95 


seemed to associate Janie’s fair face with theirs. Then he 
asked : 

“Are you not also fond of flowers, Miss Allen ?” 

“O yes!” she answered; “they constitute very much of 
my happiness in life.” 

“ I was sure of it,” he replied. “ My friends call you a 
child of nature among themselves. What a beautiful name !” 
he said, looking earnestly into her blushing face. 

“ I did not know that the cognomen had reached your 
ears,” she answered, blushing more deeply. “I suppose I 
do seem simple to my friends because I love nature. But I 
can’t help it, Mr. Wentworth. It is a spontaneous feeling 
that seems to come with the light of day, and is not alto- 
gether because I have lived in the country. Even had I 
spent my days in the grime and soot of the smoky city, I 
know I would feel the same as now,” Janie said, in extenu- 
ation of her peculiarity. 

“ But your love of nature needs no defense, Miss Allen. 
To me it is God’s awaking of the human heart to his pres- 
ence. The mystery of the tiniest flower is a living witness 
of Divinity. A nature that feels the great heart-throb of 
the Creator through the awful presence of his mysteries can 
be no rough organization,” he answered impulsively, and 
with that indescribable play of emotions upon the face that 
made him beautiful. 

“ I thank you for your justification of what I have some- 
times thought a weakness,” she said. “My heart has been 
wounded, at times, when I have divined a touch of ridicule 
lurking behind the pleasantry of friends. But still I can not 
help it more than I can help seeing the presence of a Creator 


96 


A CHILD OF NATURE . 


in the beautiful mystery clothing everything upon which the 
eye lingers in life. Nature follows me here, and looks out of 
the speaking eyes of friends with as much force as from the 
matchless faces of my flowers arrayed in beautiful verdure.” 

“Your friends are not unjust to you, Miss Allen, nor are 
their words slightingly uttered. They call you a child of 
nature because of the fitness of the title. I see its propriety 
myself, and the same thought may linger in my mind, too, 
in the silence of the desolate Lena, or the wastes of Asiatic 
deserts. I hope, sometime, to find a new flower, so delicate 
and beautiful that I may call it after your own name,” he 
said, with an assurance of sincerity that pleased Janie; for 
his words did not appear as if tainted with flattery. 

“ Do you incline to any particular class of flowers?” he 
asked, as if to probe deeper into the secret of her love of 
nature. “ It sometimes happens that we are pleased with 
certain species, and turn away from others, as we do to hu- 
man differences of character,” he said guardedly, in explana- 
tion of his question. 

“Attraction and repulsion I may feel in human nature,” 
Janie replied, feelingly; “ for sin distinguishes these; but no 
taint of sin has rested upon innocent nature, as depicted upon 
the flower’s face. Some glow with gaudy colors — others with 
modest tints; but they are all pure and beautiful alike, and 
lift their fair faces with equal boldness to the sunlight, and 
proclaim the Creative Mind with equal force. The simplest 
flower is as much a fathomless miracle as the grandest and 
most pretentious. Wild or cultivated are alike to me. The 
cornus, or ictodes, or corydalis, or Bangui naria, or their 
myriad sisterhood sheltered beneath the shades of the forest; 


A NEW FRIEND. 


07 


or the sambucus, or phytolacca, or datura, or eupatorium, in 
the lanes and fence-corners ; or the vernonia or verbascum 
of the open fields, are of like interest with the violet, or 
tulip, or iris, or clustering labyrinth of beautiful upturned 
faces from cultivated beds or conservatories,” she said, with 
an unchecked flow of language that startled her at its con- 
clusion. 

She had not intended to speak so freely, or give such 
license to her play of fancy. Her self-reproach heightened 
the color in her face, with the thought that she might be 
considered pedantic. Her pleasure turned to pain in the 
instant, and her sensitive nature was oppressed. 

“ O, forgive me !” she pleaded in the instant. “ I know 
you will think me a child now, indeed ; not a child of nature 
in the larger sense, but a child in very weakness. It was 
your question that led to my sudden freedom of expres- 
sion,” she said, with mortification written all over her sensi- 
tive face. 

But the professor did not condemn. He was delighted 
by the new revelation of her character. He had been given 
a sudden glimpse behind the veil, that aroused to a sense of 
admiration he could not escape. 

“ Ho not be unjust to yourself, Miss Allen,” he urged, 
soothingly, and with an earnestness of manner that appeared 
in deepest soberness upon his face. “ I thank you for a sin- 
gle glimpse of your character that you would have concealed. 
I am sure it will be a pleasant remembrance to me.” 

Janie looked quickly and searchingly into his face for a 
moment, as if startled ; but the quick glance convinced her 

that his words were not unfeeling flattery. 

7 


98 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


We have not followed the play of conversation about the 
table to-night, for our interest has centered in the two lives 
who most intimately mingle in the present story. It is but 
the swift-flying events and salient features of a life that can 
be caught and fixed in a narrative, like the distinct 
features of a landscape on the canvas. The details 
must be lost of necessity. But, with the concluding words 
of the professor’s lips and Janie’s intent look, the company 
arose from the table and returned to the drawing-room. 

There the rippling murmur of conversation lingered 
with charming freedom, until interrupted, after a while, by 
music and song. At last the hostess pleaded with Janie, who 
still lingered in interested conversation with the professor, 
for the contribution of her sweet voice to the pleasure of her 
friends. She yielded, as a sober look crept over her light 
glance, and took her place at the piano. The professor stood 
near her with an eager look, as if intently striving to ana- 
lyze a delicate flower that was new to him. Her clear, 
sweetly-modulated voice had a plaintive thrill, that seemed 
to touch other hearts than her own. Her musical selections 
were all full of tender melody that harmonized with her face 
and manner and voice. At last, with tremulous voice, she 
sang, with a touching sweetness that the heart inspired, the 
sacred words, 

“ Nearer, my God, to Thee, 

Nearer to Thee.” 

With the plaintive refrain, intensest silence stole upon the 
lovely group, that seemed to penetrate the inner sanctuary 
of their lives and still their heart-beats. Janie felt the music 
as if it were her own heart-cry ; and her intensely praiseful 


A NEW FRIEND. 


99 


sentiment poured over her cultivated vocal cords as from an 
instrument attuned by God’s own hand. 

In the hush that succeeded the music, Janie, in her own 
sweet way, sang “Auld Lang Syne.” In this she was joined 
by every voice, while eager eyes clung to the professor, 
standing mute and motionless at Janie’s side. It was a 
parting farewell to him that hid many an eye in tear- 
mist. Then she left the piano, and mingled with her 
friends as if to shake herself from the hushed silence of the 
room. 

Janie remained with the hostess during the night. When 
the separation came, Professor Wentworth lingered at her 
side for a brief while ; and as he was about to take her hand 
in, possibly, a last farewell, he seemed to hesitate over a 
thought that contended upon his lips for expression. 

“ To-morrow,” he said, “ I have an engagement at the 
Observatory on Mt. Lookout, in part preparation for my 
work abroad. I will not be far, then, from your home. 
May I have the pleasure of that little drive, and thus meet 
you once more at your own home?” 

With charming freedom, Janie turned her surprised look 
upon him in its deep flush, and replied: 

“It will give me unspeakable pleasure to see you 
there.” 

They separated with satisfied looks, and under a play 
of emotions that surged over their speaking countenances 
like phantoms of light. 

The professor had been delayed at the Observatory, and 
instead of reaching the village at an early hour of the 
morning, as he had intended, it was near midday before he 


100 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


did bo. Then he appeared before the home in a beautiful 
cutter driven by a liveried servant, behind a pair of proud, 
prancing, dapple-brown horses, the effect of which was 
startling to the plain villagers. 

• The acquaintanceship of the night was renewed under 
more humble surroundings. It was a simple meal of which 
they partook in the privacy of the country home-circle, 
with the gentle presence of father and mother to impart a 
welcome cheer that the brilliant company and laden table of 
the night before could not give. There was an exquisite 
composure of manner and freedom of intimacy, that shut the 
world out and set the guest at ease in the presence and sin- 
cerity of their kindly natures. It was Hot a studied effort 
of entertainment, but a simple, undemonstrative hospitality t 
that warmed his heart and banished all thought of the cold 
chill of the winter-day from which he had but just 
emerged. 

“ The delta of the Lena has a melancholy association 
with the memory of DeLong and his hapless band of ad- 
venturers, and it was a sad ending of a voyage of dis- 
covery that I hope will have no repetition,” said Mr. Allen, 
as the journey of the professor was referred to. 

“I do not look for it, Mr. Allen,” the professor replied ? 
cheerfully. “ I am of a very hopeful disposition, and have 
the most eager desire to explore those barren and wind- 
swept shores. My preparations for such a journey will not 
admit of the fate that fell to those devoted martyrs. Every- 
thing that experience can provide for human comfort will be 
mine. I will lack for nothing.” 

“ O yes, a friend !” Janie impulsively replied. “ I mean 


A NEW FRIEND. 


101 


a human friend,” she added, with a touch of self-reproach, 
as she suddenly recalled his words of the evening before, 
and of which she did not think before speaking. 

His eyes sought hers in silent questioning. His lips had 
no reply. She had made him think that his journey would 
be a lonely one in fact. The thought brought an oppressive 
feeling, and he strove to shake it off. Then his face bright- 
ened under a new impulse. He said : 

“ Our cold winter here will prepare me for the cold I ex- 
pect to meet there; and I can scarcely imagine that the 
sleighing there will be better than here at this time. It is 
so delightful that I would be happy to have Miss Alien take 
a little ride over the hills in my cutter after the meal. What 
do you say, Miss Allen?” he asked, looking appealingly to 
each one of the little group before him. 

Janie’s questioning look into the faces of her parents was 
answered with approving smiles. As he tucked soft robes 
of fur about her, the father stood by looking at the restless, 
nervous horses, recognizing, with the eye of a connoisseur , 
their good qualities. As the professor took his place beside 
Janie, the father exclaimed : 

“ Be careful or your horses will leave you 1” 

What more he would have said was lost in their hurried 
plunge and swift flight. The stimulating effect of the cold 
air upon their eager spirits made them dash away in the 
exuberant life of their intense animalism. They were not 
vicious, and never had displayed a fractious spirit; but 
before the level road at the foot of the hill had been reached 
it became apparent that the drive had assumed a dangerous 
aspect. 


102 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


The professor looked earnestly into Janie’s calm face and 
spoke words to reassure her. Turning into the straight, 
level road leading northward, the horses seemed to have 
gained the mastery, and were dashing away, beyond control, 
in a frenzy of wild excitement. In a calm, collected way 
the professor encouraged both Janie and the struggling 
driver; and then discovering a smooth part of the highway, 
lined to the fences with snow-banks, he leaned quickly over 
and grasped one of the lines in his strong grip, and turned 
their heads until they dashed into the fence and were sud- 
denly stopped. It was at the risk of serious injury to the 
horses; but what were they to the precious human life 
intrusted to his care? 

Fortunately no damage had been done. Beyond a few 
scratches, the trembling animals had been uninjured. To 
kind words and gentle strokes of the hand they finally 
yielded, and became gentle again and passive. 

Janie laughed at the little episode as if a pleasant event, 
and insisted upon a continuance of the ride. The professor 
gave way to her wishes, deeply admiring the brave spirit in 
her little body that had not betrayed a quiver of the voice or 
a tremor of the nerves. Then, as the horses dashed away 
again over the smooth and soft snow under perfect control, 
he asked with a look of pride. 

“ Did you not feel moved by fear in the mad flight of the 
horses, Miss Allen? I confess that I did.” 

“No, I did not,” she smilingly replied. “I am seldom 
moved by physical dread ; it is the emotions of the heart, 
the strange impulses of the inner life that overcome me at 
times. Such feelings I can not reach by my will,” she added. 


A NEW FRIEND. 


103 


“It is strange! Women are an enigma! The most 
delicate are strongest of will many times; while the phys- 
ically endowed are often the weakest of spirit,” he answered 
admiringly. 

When, at last, they drove up to the modest home again, 
their hearts were moved by a thrill of purest happiness, a 
gift of the hour now past. 

As Janie stepped from the sleigh she confronted the 
smiling face of Stella, who stood before her with outstretched 
hands. 

“ Why, Janie, how charming you look !” she exclaimed, 
as if nothing whatever had passed between them. “ What a 
delightful ride you must have had !” she continued boldly, 
looking steadily into the professor’s face. 

A startled look of surprise and indignation crept over 
Janie’s expressive face that sobered it in the realization of 
the deceitfulness of the greeting. She stood for a moment 
deeply embarrassed, and to break the unnatural silence that 
was disconcerting, she said : 

“Miss Stella Bradley, Mr. Wentworth.” 

Stella held out her hand to the professor, her face 
wreathed in smiles, and with an eager look, said : 

“ We have not had the pleasure of your presence before 
in our village, I believe, Mr. Wentworth; it is quite an 
event;” and then turning to Janie, continued: “You pretty 
little.rogue ! You are always so successful in catching on to 
new friends ! 0 you little sly puss ! You should not give up 

old friends for new ones so readily. How many poor, broken 
hearts are scattered around, mangled and bleeding ! Always 
a new T victim ! O, Mr. Wentworth, she is a lovely little co- 


104 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


quette, I assure you! Your turn will come next, judging 
from present appearances,” she said, with a ringing, hearty 
laugh, as if said with the meaningless freedom of innocent 
friendship. 

Janie felt herself stunned and almost blinded by the cruel 
words that were uttered in deceit, and with the view of a false 
impression. 

“ How can I defend myself?” Janie agonized with herself, 
as the unnatural words fell like blows upon her dazed senses 
pitilessly. 

Stella continued even more defiantly, and with a wilder 
abandonment of manner, and with a haste that could permit 
of no interruption, a witness to the utter discomfiture of the 
one and painful surprise of the other. Then she seemed to 
shrink, like a thing of evil, away from them, as she bid them 
good-bye. A lew steps away she turned again, and with 
uplifted finger, cried: 

“Beware, Mr. Wentworth, beware 1” and laughed loudly 
and defiantly. 

She felt that she had done her work skillfully, and had 
aroused a suspicion that Janie could not hope to allay. It 
was a strange satisfaction that had come to her heart in the 
thought. She had sunk to a still lower level of abandon- 
ment even since last we saw her. 

Janie stood mute and horrified, without the power of ex- 
planation, and looked trustfully into her friend’s face, to read 
there the effect of the cruel words to which both had silently 
listened. She saw him wearing a sober look that had never 
appeared upon his face before. She could not see into his 
troubled heart, there to read the deep emotions at work with 


A NEW FRIEND. 


105 


bis happiness. They walked back in silence to the open 
door, where her mother awaited her; and after a little while, 
when the professor took his last leave of them, Janie’s little 
hand rested in his grip, for a moment, that she realized did 
not have the clinging warmth to it that she had felt before. 
She said : “ Good-bye, and God bless you with a safe return,” 
and felt that, in a strange way, her heart was sorrowed, and 
that the present was a sad ending of a new pleasure. 

We will not intrude upon the sadness of the story, as 
told to the mother in heart-breaking sobs. The wound 
was too deep to be healed by gentle words and tender 


caresses. 


CHAPTER IX. 


The Wages of Sin. 

I N the departing days of winter the moisture-laden at- 
mosphere that hovers over Cincinnati is dense at times 
with the smoke and soot of its furnaces and myriad chim- 
neys, and it is held over the basin like a suspended cloud of 
blackness, so that, from the hilltops, the great city is hid 
from view. It creeps like an offense into the beautiful val- 
leys, and essays to reach the hilltops, but for the most part 
in vain. The palace-crowned heights lift their heads above 
the grime, and into the clear air, through every season. 

Down in the darkness of the city, lights gleam with a 
yellowish glare from the deep recesses of stores and factories, 
and add additional pall to the gilded drinking-palaces of 
sin that, with wanton boldness, cluster uj)on her choicest 
thoroughfares. Their glittering fronts are decked in fan- 
tastic shapes of colored glass and carved wood; their doors 
swing beneath canopied arches on artistic metal hinges; and, 
from the exterior, are beautiful to look upon. Within, the 

mirror-lined walls, graceful counters, tempting decanters, 
106 








/ 



THE WAGES OF SIN. 


107 


music and paintings, beguile the senses, and divert from the 
degradation that can not be hid, until the finer sensibilities 
that suffer are at last benumbed and polluted. The atmos. 
phere of the place is tainted, the talk is of low and degrad- 
ing subjects, and the moral reproaches of the conscience are 
drowned in intoxicating liquors. Moral purity can not live 
amid such surroundings — evil only can thrive. 

Charley Ludlow haunted one of these places like an evil 
genius. His shrinking face, that was turned from the gaze 
of old friends at home, was bold enough here ; and his words 
were free and unrestrained. His coarse language, rough 
oaths, lewd jokes, and low manners mingled with the clouds 
of tobacco-smoke that oppressed the lungs. Hot a thought 
of purity, not a noble aspiration of elevated manhood, not a 
love for fellow-men that would impel the heart to human res- 
cue, not a Christian sentiment, could possibly emanate from 
such a place. Here Charley Ludlow had been schooled since 
breaking away from the quiet of his village home, and from 
the deceitful fascinations of the place had graduated at last 
as a proficient in the arts of gambling, horse-racing, and sins 
of a more appalling and degrading character. It was here 
that his self-respect had been destroyed, his love for pure 
womanhood had been tainted, his honor had become obliter- 
ated, and his youthful beauty of face and innocence of char- 
acter had been effaced. Such doors swing upon noiseless 
hinges for the immolation of all that is best in human charac- 
ter, to those who are tempted to enter. The process may 
be slow, but is nevertheless sure. The taint may be in- 
oculated with the first visit, and the first glass of wine, and 
the first yielding to the siren’s voice. Charley Ludlow is not 


108 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


an exception, yielding because of an unusually weak charac- 
ter. It is a sad fate that awaits the strongest in a dalliance 
with sin. It is a rule that the best wine is drunk first, the 
dregs last. 

The career of Charley Ludlow is but a single witness of 
the great army plunging headlong to destruction. He is de- 
tained from the rushing throng only long enough for the gaze 
to rest upon the moral degeneracy that inevitably awaits 
every individual that ventures among the throng upon what- 
ever pretext. He is not made to serve the play of moral 
fancy; but is a single example of the life-history of degrad- 
ing influences upon human nature, inevitably. He but illus- 
trates the force of moral law as certainly as that physical 
death follows the taking of poison. The danger of moral 
death, and the certainty of blighting sorrow, lurks in the life 
of every individual who lingers within the reach of such de- 
ceiving and fascinating influences. 

It was upon such a day as we have described, when the 
pall of the smoky atmosphere hung blackest over the city, 
that Charley stood before the counter of his favorite resort, 
drinking with boon companions. The dark day seemed to 
have entered the dark recesses of their hearts, for their faces 
were careworn and haggard. Another friend entered and 
joined them — .the same face that had been seen at the town- 
meeting. Slapping Charley on the back with heavy hand, 
he laughingly exclaimed : 

“ How are you, old fellow? You look glum !” 

But Charley did not seem pleased with the salutation, 
and made no reply. 

“ Ha, ha ! not yet recovered from the fright the little 


THE WAGES OF SIN , . 


109 


girl gave you tlie other night, I see!” the friend continued ; 
and all joined rudely in coarse laughter. 

“Drop it!” replied Charley, reproachfully, and with a 
scowling look. 

“A good joke! One on Charley! The gay Lothario 
that has upset the heads of half the giddy girls of the town 
dismal over a little country girl! Jilted for a fact!” and he 
roughly turned him round before the glare of light that 
shone full into his shrinking face. “ See !” he said to his 
friends, “that pretty face could not make a verdant country 
lass love him. You are losing your hold, old boy !” he added, 
before the rude jibes of his friends. 

“ Better stop it,” Charley interrupted, with a deeply 
sullen air. 

“Yes; it does hurt, Charley, I know. But never mind, 
old boy. Come and have a drink. You will forget it all 
after a little,” he said, soothingly. “ I want to see you in the 
back room on business, directly.” 

There is always a vacant back room in such places, for 
the brewing of crime ; and so, after a little, the two sat there 
alone with doors securely closed. 

“ It does n’t matter to me what you do,” said Charley, 
churlishly. “ I always did want to protect the family, and 
you know I have refused to do anything against them ; but 
whatever you do I suppose I will get the blame of it,” he 
added, in deep dejection. “ You know,” he continued, “ I 
can not be seen in the town again after my last little esca- 
pade. O, I was a fool to go there drunk ! I might have 
known better! I can’t even see my old mother now, unless 
I sneak in under cover of the night,” he added. 


110 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“Never mind that,” retorted his companion. “If you 
made a fool of yourself, it ’s no affair of 101110.” 

“ But it has shut the door against me, and I can not go 
there again,” he replied, with a heavy heart and a sad, self- 
reproachful look. 

“ But that won’t hurt you. No one else is to blame. I 
warned you against it, but you would n’t take my advice,” 
the friend retorted, unfeelingly. 

“And yet I might as well be dead as be shut out from 
that spot. My old mother is there, and my affianced, and 
my old loves that I clung to as a boy, and still cling to,” he 
said, with a pang of remorse that writhed upon his unhappy 
face. His conscience was hurting him this dark day, and 
the company of his friends and drink could not deaden it. 

“ O, bother upon such sentiments!” said his friend, with 
aggressive aversion. “We have nothing to do with such 
things now. When were you engaged to be married, I ’d like 
to know?” he asked, in a deeply-censorious way. 

“ We will not talk about that.” 

“Just as you please,” replied his companion, with con- 
tempt. “ Will you talk about business, then?” 

“ Yes.” 

“And what are you going to do?” 

“ Nothing,” replied Ludlow, doggedly. 

“Nothing? And what do you expect me to do?” was 
asked, fiercely. 

“ Just what you please. Once for all, I say I will have 
no part in your undertaking.” 

“Frightened off; grown a coward at last!” exclaimed 
the friend, tauntingly. 


THE WAGES OF SIN . 


Ill 


“I am not a coward. I fling the epithet back in your 
face, and dare you to the proof,” answered Ludlow, with 
trembling voice and defiant looks, standing rigid before his 
friend. “ You know better than to venture such a taunt. 
The word comes with bad grace from your lips,” he concluded. 

After a moment’s reflection, the friend replied, in a sup- 
pressed tone of voice : 

“But if I release you from this expedition, the next 
thing, if trouble comes, you will peach upon us. Is that 
what you are planning to do do?” 

“Don’t taunt me with being a traitor also,” answered 
Ludlow, in intensest bitterness. “ Have I not followed you 
like a dog heretofore ; yes, and even led you on ?” 

“ But we will now act upon the principle that there is no 
honor among thieves,” coolly retorted the companion. “ I 
do n’t propose to leave you behind, and take the risk of an 
enemy in the rear. The way must be clear. You are bound 
to your friends by past acts that you can not escape. If we 
suffer, you will suffer with us. Bemember that !” 

Ludlow was sobered by the open reproach of thief. He 
stood hesitating under the cowering weakness of dread and 
fear of punishment the word had exercised. It was his con- 
science now that was suddenly plying the stinging lash. He 
assumed a conciliatory manner in the moment, and was 
willing to beg of his reckless friend. 

“ I will not betray you, whatever happens,” he pleaded. 
“ I can not go on this expedition,” he said, and he seemed to 
shrink from an imaginary danger now threatening him. 
“ Go yourself; the blame will all be mine, whoever does the 
work. I feel that it will be the ruin of me anyway.” 


112 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


His friend looked steadily at him for a time, as if unde- 
sided whether to force him by his criminal mastery over him. 
it was a power he had used upon other occasions. But now, 
he recognized that his dread of the work was so great, that 
he would possibly be an obstacle, and concluded at last to 
release him. 

“ Will you swear, Charley Ludlow,” he asked, “ if we re- 
lease you from this undertaking, that you will be true to us, 
even if you are suspected? Ho you swear it?” 

“ Yes, I will give you my solemn oath,” Ludlow replied, 
with a visible sense of relief. 

When at last they entered the brilliantly-lighted saloon 
again, it was to mingle with the degrading associations 
called by them good-fellowship, in which continued drinking 
and low language blended like foul emanations from perdi- 
tion. Whatever the garb by which they were clothed, or 
whether the air of wealth or poverty clung to them, there 
was a common brotherhood of degradation that made them 
all akin. 

Snow had disappeared from the face of nature now, and 
a late February freeze had locked the earth in impenetra- 
ble hardness. It was a night in which only the glimmering 
stars could be seen looking down from their dark, moonless 
vault above. They spread a silent, speechless beauty over 
nature in the dim light that scarcely broke the darkness 
brooding over the sleeping village. The heavens seemed 
full of stars, and the great, broad Milky Way stretched like 
a misty arch spanning the sky ; and the constellations stood 
boldly out upon the vault, beautified by the clustering Plei- 
ades and the brilliant planets. It was a lovely night, so 


THE WAGES OF SIN . 


113 


still and quiet and soul-inspiring. Crime would seem a prof- 
anation of its still beauty ; and yet, in the presence of the 
speechless quietude of revolving worlds gleaming like jewels 
upon the bosom of space, agonizing groans, pitiful sobs of 
the heart-broken, fierce curses of brawling men, the stealthy 
tread of the assassin, and the lurid flames of the incendiary’s 
work besieged the heavens, and assailed the still purity of 
the night-air from our poor, sin-cursed earth. 

This lovely night was selected for another invasion of 
the inoffensive little village. The aggressive work had 
been planned as a retaliation for the citizens’ meeting of self- 
defense in the early fall. A cruel, vindictive spirit moved 
the perpretrators now, who had first begun their work in a 
tantalizing effort. After a telling blow, they intended leav- 
ing the place forever, recognizing that, through Charley 
Ludlow, who was now unquestionably suspected, they might 
be brought to justice. It was to be the last night of their 
evil work. 

At midnight deep silence locked the village in its close 
embrace. The guardians, whom the citizens had appointed 
months before, had grown weary of their vigil, and had 
retired to peaceful sleep, assured that danger could not 
lurk in this quiet night more than in the months past. 
While their sleeping senses were being soothed by undis- 
turbed dreams, we will follow the quick movements of the 
wicked assailants in briefest detail. 

From the darkness they crept into the narrow back 
streets of the village, and thence to the principal store, where 
they vainly strove to break through the iron bars that cau- 
tion and fear had placed before windows and doors. After 

8 


114 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


noise they feared would arouse the nervous people, in break- 
ing loose the shutters from their fastenings, they desisted 
defeated and maddened by the barrier that prevented further 
attempts. They cursed the cowards for their defensive pre- 
cautions, and assailed the home of a prominent citizen near 
by. Access was readily gained here; but a sick member of 
the family lay tossing in restless pain on a sleepless couch, 
and the noise of the stealthy work aroused him to a sense of 
danger. It was but the act*of a moment to awake the family. 
In another moment the stillness of the night was broken by 
the sharp crack of a pistol shot from a window of the house. 
Another answered back from a neighboring home; then 
another, and another, and many more in quick succession 
from every point of the compass. It was the signal of dan- 
ger agreed upon by the citizens. 

Again the men were foiled, and hurried footsteps were 
heard upon the streets, and the village was fast growing into 
a ferment of excitement. They had failed in plunder; they 
would apply the torch in their mad retreat, leaving behind a 
parting curse in the flames of the destroying element. As 
the citizens gathered in bewildering perplexity about the 
store and home that had been assaulted, they plied the torch 
to the haymow of Mr. Allen’s barn, and looked exultingly 
upon the crackling work of destruction well under way 
before they again fled into the darkness. 

The light sprang with lurid glare into the night, and 
the flames leaped and whirled and soared in gathering fury 
that could not be assuaged. Mr. Allen succeeded in rescuing 
his helpless animals against their mad resistance, and then 
could do no more than impotently view the quick destruction 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 


115 


of his consuming property. Janie and her mother looked 
upon the wild riot of the flames, in trembling fear and sorrow. 
“At last, vengeance had fallen upon them too,” they grieved to 
think ; and with anguish more keen in the thought of the 
perpetrator than in sorrow for the loss of consuming prop- 
erty. It was vengeance from the hands of an old friend ; 
and the poor mother, in her lonely seclusion and midnight 
anguish, was unconscious that her cherished son was at en- 
mity with the people who cherished her. For the mother and 
son they sorrowed, until tears of pity chased down their 
pale and careworn faces. 

Then they were diverted from their sorrow by the clatter 
of the swift feet of horses ’dashing through the ruddy glare 
of the unchecked flames, that soon were lost in the darkness 
of the road looking cityward. The faint crack of pistol- 
shots startled their ears from the hidden distance; and their 
nerves were affrighted by the dread that the darkness, per- 
haps, concealed tragic horrors worse than flames of fire. 

The pursuers had approached the pursued near enough 
to catch the sound of their horses’ feet dashing over the hard 
roadway. But they were beyond reach, and the pistol-shots 
were an impotent expression of defeat; the answering shots 
a taunting defiance of rage and disappointment. With the 
return of the pursuers in safety, the dread suspense passed 
from Janie and her mother; and in the light of the still 
crackling flames, the firm resolve was made by the citizens to 
mete out vengeance to the marauders, let the blow fall upon 
whom it might. Sentiment was to be forever buried in the 
consuming barn now; and the stern visage of the law must 
rise, instead, from its ashes. 



CHAPTER X. 


Wedded, 


HILE the consuming barn and vain efforts at rob- 



V V bery were sending terror to the hearts of the inoffen- 
sive people of the village, Ludlow was sleeplessly pacing his 
room, or sat bowed before his table, with aching head buried 
on his arm, tortured with a longing effort to penetrate the 
future. He cried to himself with a lingering repetition, like 
the measured throbs 01 tlio clock : “ What shall my future 
be? What shall my future be!” The refrain was heart- 
sobs that the smiting conscience exacted, and they knew 
no rest the livelong night. He could not protect the little 
friend of his youth from fright and danger to-night. He had 
guarded her from harm in the past, but could not now. 
The comrades, with whom he had consorted and whom he 
had set upon the hapless village, would wreck their spite 
upon the Allens, and could not be diverted from their 
purpose. In the refuge of his room he could but follow 
their footsteps in excited fancy, thinking the while, that 
whatever of evil was done, unrestrained by his presence, 
would fall upon his own hapless head. 


110 


WEDDED . 


117 


The hounds of the law would be upon his track on the 
morrow ; and then what? he strove to think. His wavering 
mind remorselessly rebuked him at times, in the vigils of 
the night, that he had remained* in the city like a coward, 
when he should have been near to Janie and Stella and his ' 
mother, to shield them from harm. It could then have been 
no worse than now, with the pangs of a nameless dread to 
torture. Detection and arrest and exposure could not be 
worse than the long night of suspense, and the inevitable 
suspicion that would attach to him. His sins had found him 
out. He realized the shrinking, harrowing presence of the 
sentiment that “the thief doth think each bush an officer;” 
and before the break of day he was suspiciously watching 
the door , or trembling at the undefined noises of the night, 
in dread anticipation of arrest. 

The heart of the abandoned criminal suffers the keenest 
agonies of life. Crime can not efface the dread of punish- 
ment. It drives the offender relentlessly from concealment to 
concealment like an avenging Nemesis ; and, when overtaken, 
conscience plies the lash that gives no rest. The physical 
law of attraction and repulsion is not more exacting than the 
moral law resting upon sin. Punishment follows by either 
the laws of God or the laws of men ; and both together many 
times torture the heart to the verge of despair. Moral laws 
are not man-made, and are beyond man, as gravitation is. 
They establish a power for good that points the human mind 
to a Lawmaker who exacts good rather than evil of human- 
ity — to a Tribunal above the courts of nations. The will 
outside of nature has defined the harmony and contentment 
resting as a reward upon human lives in accord with such 


118 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


requirements as clearly as the plan and purpose displayed in 
the operations of physical nature. Such reward or punish- 
ment implies a guiding will outside of human life, directing 
human destiny. If not a human will, it is but a reasonable 
conclusion that it should be divine. If happiness is obe- 
dience to moral law, it is obedience to that divine will, and 
not to dumb nature destitute of thought. How, then, can 
we escape the purpose of such laws, and the conviction that 
they are for the good of men, not only here, but hereafter? 
No law has been made for evil, but for the perfect harmony 
of physical and human destiny. Eeason grasps firmly such 
conclusions, and exalts to an assurance that human destiny 
is not defined and limited by the few brief years measured 
by the span of life. 

With the earliest dawn Ludlow hastened to the shelter of 
the saloon, bowed by fear and sorrow. Already had his 
companions reached its shelter. Their sullen faces were 
more than ever bestial in the carousal they had entered upon 
as an anodyne to their balked efforts, and the gravity of their 
danger of detection. Their brows were clouded, and features 
were distorted with passion and exposure from the vicissi- 
tudes of the night. Ludlow’s face was not less haggard and 
unamiable. As they confronted each other at the moment of 
his entrance, it was with sullen and defiant looks of suspi- 
cion. He read at a glance the defeat of their plans ; and rec- 
ognized in the instant the danger his thoughts had pic- 
tured in his lonely night vigil. They looked into each 
other’s eyes for a time with steady aggressiveness. Had 
success attended their efforts, Ludlow would have been ex- 
cused ; but now he was a menace to their personal safety 


WEDDED. 


119 


in directing the law to them. It was their time now to de- 
sert him. The aggressiveness of the leader, as they stood 
facing each other, was expressed at length in the single 
word, “Coward!” which he hurled into Ludlow’s face with 
a hiss of contempt. 

Ludlow accepted the reproachful insult with a helpless 
submission, cowed by the ugly spirit and danger that threat- 
ened him. The vile word sank into his heart with the heavy, 
deadening self-reproach of his own conscience-stricken 
thoughts of the night. The gravity of his position in the 
loss of comradeship and the punishment that the moment 
presented, chilled him and paralyzed speech. 

“ Who would shelter hini now when his sins were about 
to overtake him ?” thought Ludlow. “ The friends, and places 
where evil works had been hatched, would rend him or 
close their doors in his face.” Painfully his hurried thoughts 
chased through his distressed mind in the sound of the 
cruel word, “ Coward,” which still rang in his ears. He 
stood mute before his friends, but cast a pitiful, pleading 
look to their estranged faces. 

“ I am not a coward,” he answered, with perfect self- 
effacement, and an absence of asperity of feeling that arrested 
their bitter antagonism in the moment. The three turned 
their bloated, haggard, and soiled faces upon him with 
questioning looks, and then their lips curled in contemptuous 
derision of his abject humility. 

“ Take a drink with me, boys,” said Ludlow. “ My 
mouth is parched, and I can not talk. Ho n’t forget the 
past because of one failure. My lot is worse than yours,” 
he pleaded. 


120 


A CHILD OF NATURE . 


To the abandoned the intoxicant is the panacea that 
heals all wounds and bridges over all difficulties. They 
drank together — once, twice, thrice, at Ludlow’s expense. 
Then the tone of voice softened; the eye forgot its re- 
proaches; their hands clasped in fellowship, and the old 
feeling of comradeship returned. 

“ Let us go to the back room,” said Ludlow, when all 
this had been accomplished. “ There are no ears there but 
our own.” 

The work of the night was narrated, larded over with 
vile oaths. Ludlow was not visibly affected until the burn- 
ing barn was mentioned. The details of this were given 
with savage delight in the presence of his sorrow and 
troubled face. He offered no reproaches, but sat as if trans- 
fixed by the weight of a settled gloom that was crushing 
the heart. How to escape the detective became at last the 
all-engrossing thought. 

“ It is not you who will be sought,” gloomily said Lud- 
low. “ It matters little whether you remain here or in 
hiding, for you can not be suspected. I am an exile from 
my home now, and a fugitive from justice — justice that I 
have not violated !” he said bitterly. “ But it is all the same. 
1 am suspected, and it will be upon my track that the 
hounds will be let loose. It is I who must flee — flee for the 
sake of others.” 

“Look here, Ludlow!” replied one, with bitter aggres- 
siveness. “ Ho n’t intimate that you are spotless innocence ! 
Who opened the way for our raids upon the town ? Who 
dictated the places for robbery? Whose spite was to be 
gratified?” 


WEDDED. 


121 


“Mine,” answered Ludlow, humbled by his own self- 
reproaches. 

“ Who ought to suffer?” 

“ Only me,” he said. “ It is a just retribution that has 
grown out of my whisky-blunted depravity. I thought, 
once in life, to have done better — I ought to have done 
better,” he added, with a haggard look that was pitiful in 
his despair. 

The thought of Janie crossed his mind. The relentless 
conviction crushed his heart in lingering remorso that but 
for his preference for evil associates and drink he'might now 
be in the restful possession of her love and association ; that 
the present was a bitter ending to all hopes of young man- 
hood; that he must be at last a fugitive from the justice his 
friends required at his hands. He was dumb before his self- 
reproaches and the heartless taunts of his friends. They 
cruelly laughed at him as they witnessed his silent mental 
conflict, that stood out in speaking lines upon his face. 

“ It is hard, old boy, ain’t it? Should n’t have been such 
a naughty boy! Should have stayed in of nights, and 
minded your mother!” one said, with heartless jibes and 
laughter. 

Ludlow turned his crushed look toward his tormentors 
with a faint appearance of defiance. “ Even my companions 
in sin have no pity,” he cried to himself in his helplessness, 
and laboriously rose from his chair, and slowly staggered 
from the room, lost to every hope. 

It was he that must be in hiding. He sought the refuge 
of his room, and here only for a brief while. In its uncer- 
tain seclusion he felt himself alone, without a friend in all 


122 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


the world — and yet not alone — for mother and Stella came 
to his thoughts to remind him that two hearts, at least, had 
not fully deserted him. But the helplessness of their cling- 
ing confidence was a pitiful consolation when thus driven 
by a relentless fate beyond their presence. He must leave 
even them with the tantalizing desires of a correspondence 
denied, lest letters should reveal his hiding-place. The sting 
of remorse was still more painful in the conviction that his 
poor mother must be left to the cold charity of the world or 
the poor-house; an agonizing sorrow gnawing at her heart 
the while, because of his wickedness. He would write to both 
mother and Stella, came to his burdened thoughts; and then, 
with that pitiful farewell, he would seek oblivion in the wilds 
of New Mexico. 

First he wrote to his mother. He told her that he was 
forced to take a hasty journey; that in time he hoped 
to return to her ; that he had changed his ways of life for 
the better. He begged her not to be cast down, for he 
would send her remittances from the West. He implored 
her to be hopeful, and wait patiently his happy return ; and 
then he wrote the word “farewell,” which cost him deep 
groans that sounded strangely upon the solitude of his room. 

He was deeply thoughtful as he attempted to write to 
Stella. His mind wavered in conflicting tumult. What he 
would write at one moment he would destroy the next. 
After a labored effort, he at last concluded the following: 

“Dear Stella, — At this moment I feel that we have 
never enjoyed the strange, sacred intimacy of betrothal. Is 
it to be denied us forever? At this moment I cling to you 
as the last hold upon life. If you have the power you once 


WEDDED. 


123 


promised to use for my good, now is the time to try its vir- 
tue. In a few days I will be a fugitive from mistaken per- 
secution. It was not I who assaulted your village last night. 
Believe me, I had no part in it, but am suspected, and having 
no one on earth to prove my innocence, must flee for the 
crime of others. In God’s name I tell you the truth. 1 can 
not go away into the uncertain future, without feeling 
that I have one tie binding me to the past, recalling 
mo from exile at last. We are plighted. Will you 
make one great sacifice for my sake? It may be ask- 
ing much of you, but all depends upon your decision. I 

can not come to you ; meet me, therefore, to-morrow at 

and be toy wife before I go. Let me feel that my heart’s de- 
sire is gratified in this. Farewell until the morrow.” 

Stella was thinking of Ludlow at the moment his heart 
bad wrestled with the desire to make her his own. But her 
thoughts were not happy; or, altogether reproachful. From 
every lip she had heard the confident accusation expressed 
that it was be who had done the vile work of the night. In 
her mind only did doubt arise. She pitied him with the 
forgiving pity of trustful love ; she was deaf to all accusa- 
tions. She would have warned him of impending danger, 
but was ignorant of his place of resort in the city. Anxiety 
and sorrow cluug to her succeeding night of sleeplessness, 
and on into the day when his welcome letter reached her. 
Her trembling hands could scarce hold the pages as she read. 
Hardly would she have time to meet him at the hour and 
place indicated in the letter. “He calls piteously, plead- 
ingly — X can but follow my impulse blindly,” she cried. 

She loved him — had promised to be his wife. She had 
plotted for his hand ; it was now extended towards her in 


124 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


trouble ; she would grasp it and cling to it for evermore. 
The brief time and concealment were obstacles she could 
surmount. He appealed to her promise of rescue. She 
could and would save him; duty demanded of her the sac- 
rifice. So she reasoned in haste and excitement. 

She was driven to the train, due in the hour, by her 
father’s manservant. She had made a plausible excuse for 
visiting the city to her surprised mother, that satisfied her. 
Then she stood beside her lover, and together they sought 
the services of an obscure parson, and were married. He 
had secured the license, confidently expecting the present 
issue. Then they clung to each other in the strange feeling 
that now their lives were mysteriously bound together. 
With a few clinging words of love and promises that hojje 
inspired, and they were torn apart, with the burden of an 
awful secret weighing upon Stella’s heart. She had suddenly 
become a woman, with no more of girlish thoughts or lin- 
gering desires. The sunshine of life, that had begun to grow 
dim with unscrupulous plottings in the past, now seemed to 
be totally eclipsed in the presence of the burden that had 
come with the attainment of her desires. An obtruding sor- 
row came with the conviction that her marriage was not 
blithesome, like the happy realizations of her friends. The 
compact had been made when the taint of liquor was upon 
his breath, and the bond when the taint of crime was driv- 
ing him from her. Was she happy in the awaking of such 
realizations? The leprosy of sin had come with its wither- 
ing touch to blight her life. Increasing wretchedness 
awaited the passing days, in which she would gather the 
harvest from seeds sown in the past. 


CHAPTER XI. 


On the Frontier. 


HABLEY returned to his desolate room with a new 



hope and an added burden, and a strange consciousness 
that he now had something to live for. But one of his pals 
awaited him with the announcement that a detective was 
shadowing the saloon, which sent a shivering chill through 
his trembling nerves, and a despairing numbness to his 
excited sensibilities. He was pursued now by the law and 
his reproaching conscience. Darkness had come to the day 
and his life-hopes as well. lie must plunge into the uncer- 
tainty of a dismal future alone, beyond the reach of conso- 
lations of wife, or even the taunts of sinful companions, 
which would have been a relief in his extremity. For a 
time he was lost in the tantalizing horrors of self-abasement. 
He could not escape the future ; it seemed to offer no ray of 
hope, and he shrank from it. It was like severing the heart- 
strings to tear himself away from the only spot of earth 
to which he now clung, as he had never dreamed himself 


125 


126 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


capable of doing — his country home and its quiet, peaceful, 
sheltering surroundings, where an air of purity dwelt. 

His thoughts were a torture to him. Of what good now 
his evil associates? They had turned against him in his 
hour of distress. Of what good his beguilements of the 
cup, which had seemed like boon companionship ?— all a 
withering, blighting deception, alive with stings of disap- 
pointment. Of what good now the sympathy of country 
friends, which he had slighted in the assurance that he did 
not need it? — even that had turned to hate. And so he 
must turn his back upon associates, deceiving friendships, 
the sympathies of childhood, and, w'orse than all else now, 
the remnant of confidence still lingering in the hearts of 
wife and mother. 

To escape the maddening reproaches of his thoughts and 
the lashings of conscience, he busied .himself in packing his 
trunk. When the lid was closed, and the key turned in the 
lock, he tacked a card bearing another name than his own to 
the lid. His heart-pain tortured with keener anguish, in 
the realization that even his name mst be left behind in the 
general wreck. He was worse than Esau who had sold his 
birthright for a mess of pottage. The story of the Prodigal 
Son, feeding on husks of swine, had repeated itself in him; 
but with the despairing difference that none could forgive 
and save from the exactions of the law which he had 
defied. 

Then he was at last upon the train. Not a hand had 
been extended in friendly farewell; not a kindly word, wish- 
ing him a safe journey and happy return. His eyes burned 
like fire, where the fount of tears had been dried by the 


ON THE FRONTIER. 


127 


intense heat of despair and blight. A single tear would have 
been like a drop of water to the rich man’s tongue in perdi- 
tion from the tip of Lazarus’s finger. The train sped on 
over weary miles of length, and more weary hours of dura- 
tion, with the unspeakable oppression of utter loneliness 
crushing with its weight. He could not, dare not mingle 
with those about him. For the first time he felt himself un- 
worthy of the contact of better natures, whose happy 
smiles he envied. He was fleeing, driven by the lash of re- 
morse and a smiting conscience; pursued by a pack of 
growling, snapping wolves of evil acts that had started from 
the city upon his track as he began his flight. They would 
follow him to his journey’s end, and drive him at last, he 
felt with a shudder, away from reform and hope. He 
seemed to feel himself lost beyond the reach of recovery, 
utterly discarded by the world. 

At last bis destination was reached. He was at rest now 
in the assurance that the law could not reach him. He walked 
from the train bewildered by the new world which seemed 
to open about him. Every trace of comfort or refinement had 
been left behind. Sin did not lurk behind gilded doors here, 
but stalked boldly upon the streets. The faces he met were 
bold and reckless and obtrusive ; the houses were low and 
irregular, and of boards, like the sidewalks ; the streets were 
of tenacious mud that seemed to have crept over the slippery 
walks, and up the sides of the houses, and, so far as he could 
see, into them. An appearance of poverty-stricken dilapida- 
tion clung to the very animals of the streets, as well as to 
the slouching forms of the people, and the broken windows 
of dirty shanties that were filled with a varied assortment of 


128 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


makeshifts. Drinking-places assailed his eyes from every 
hand — low, degrading places, patronized by brazen loafers, 
who carried pistols openly in belts strapped about their 
waists. 

Before reaching the hotel he was confronted by a reeling, 
whooping, cursing, and morally-abandoned wretch, who halted 
on his unsteady feet, and through blearing eyes looked upon 
him, first in amazement; and then, with insulting laughter 
and oaths cried, “A tender-foot 1 a tender-foot!” Ludlow 
learned better after a while the meaning and import of the 
word in the minds of the rough border outlaws. The hotel 
was a two-story frame structure, the entire front of which 
was given up to a low saloon, and through which the only 
entrance to the rooms above could be had. He was horrified 
in the presence of his sinful surroundings, of the open, de- 
fiant, reckless abandonment of the hellish degradation about 
him here. “ He had escaped Scylla, only to be wrecked upon 
the merciless Charybdis,” he thought. And yet the actual 
sin, here and there, was the same. The murderous spirit 
was incited alike by the liquor of both ; manhood, in the as- 
sociation, would suffer equal effacement; hopeless abandon- 
ment and despair tortured the victims of sin alike in both 
places. The same death awaited the individual, with the 
single difference of secrecy and open publicity without re- 
straint of law. 

Ludlow had not reached the point of absolutely blunted 
sensibilities. He could suffer remorse as well as fear of pun- 
ishment. He was still subject to the smitings of conscience. 
Can man ever reach the depths of degradation where this 
monitor ceases to impress? It is doubtful ; for the immortal 


ON THE FRONTIER. 


129 


spirit can not be quenched. Is it not this, where humanity 
sinks at last into the lowest depths, that leads. to the destruc- 
tion of life by the self-inflicting hand? Ludlow did feel 
keenly his change of position, and shrank from the defiant 
openness of the degradation about him. He would have 
sought better companions ; but could not, because he had 
been cast adrift upon the wild waves of this turbulent popu- 
lace by criminal acts that had made him an outlaw. Such 
were his natural associates. 

Timidly he made his way through the loungers of the bar- 
room, and applied for lodgings. The rough curses that be- 
fouled the tainted atmosphere of the room, heavy with rank 
odors of liquor and smoke and foul breaths, were hushed long 
enough for the curious gaze to take the measure of the new- 
comer. It was a critical gaze, that was acute in its penetra- 
tion of character, reading with quicker intuition than the 
cultivated eye the printed page. A long, steady, sullen gaze 
of the barkeeper answered his inquiry. 

“ You want a room ?” 

“ Yes, if you please.” 

“A whole room to yourself?” 

“ Yes.” 

Then he looked Ludlow over again with a sneering scowl, 
that in its roughness was intimidating. “ Ho you think your- 
self better than the rest of us, that you can’t double up with 
another ?” 

“ O no !” quickly replied Ludlow ; “ if you have n’t accom- 
modations for me I can go elsewhere.” 

This was answered by uproarious laughter from several 
of the bystanders, who had closed around him. 

9 


130 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“ Where will you go, old boy ?” asked one, derisively. 

“ Is this the only hotel in the town?” Ludlow asked, 
hesitatingly, as if realizing himself in a trap. 

The landlord was still looking at him with calm indiffer- 
ence. Jerking his head towards one of the men he said : 

“ Tell this tenderfoot if there is another hotel in the 
town !” 

“ Yes,” the man answered, “plenty of them; but you 
happened to strike the only decent one in the place. This 
one is Paradise, the others are — well — the other place,” he 
said, with an insolent leer into Ludlow’s unhappy face. 

He could do no better. He would have to adapt himself 
to the new condition, and would begin now, making a virtue 
of necessity. While waiting for the further movements of 
the man behind the counter he hastily took a survey of his 
surroundings and of the crowd mistily defined in the to- 
bacco-smoke that filled the room. It was not assuring. It 
was a rougher crowd than he had been used to ; their ways 
were unlike anything he had encountered before. “ Could 
he become one of them?” he asked himself in trembling 
doubt. But he was aroused from his reverie by the rough 
voice of the landlord. 

“What is your name, tenderfoot?” he asked, abruptly. 

“ Charles Lud — I mean Bradley,” he said, with a quick 
correction. 

He had almost betrayed himself by his real name. His 
momentary embarrassment and correction were, in fact, a 
betrayal to the keen observation of his allocutor. 

“Ah! an alias!” he said, with still more provoking 
calmness. 


ON THE FRONTIER. 


J31 


“ Where do you hail from, tenderfoot?” he asked. 

“ Chicago.” 

“ You do? I’ll bet you lie, tenderfoot.” 

Ludlow’s cheeks tingled with hot blood from the insult; 
but in this crowd he could not assert himself. 

“How long do you stay?” was asked, insolently. 

“ I expect to remain a long time,” he answered, in a hap- 
less way. 

“ O, can’t go back, I see ! Well, make yourself at home,” 
he said, turning to speak to others. 

“ Do you ever drink anything, stranger?” said one of the 
men at his elbow, “ or is it against your principles?” 

“Yes, come,” Ludlow answered, mechanically; “what 
will you have, you and your friends?” 

“ Not particular,” the lounger replied, laughingly. Then, 
with a loud voice to the room, he said : “ Come, boys, the 
tenderfoot wants to make your acquaintance. Take a drink 
with him.” 

In their midst, Ludlow found himself an object of banter, 
and rude jokes, and insolent questions, and defiant freedom of 
manner. He thrust his wounded sensibilities into the back- 
ground, and resorted to his old freedom that had made him a 
boon companion of the saloons of the great city. He touched 
the undercurrent of emotions that are common to all under 
like circumstances, and soon became akin to the low crowd 
around in language and spirit and manners. To his surprise 
he found himself accepted as one of themselves, and rough 
hand-shaking came with the blending of affiliations. 

“ Can’t wear your store-clothes here,” said one, at last. 
“Shed ’em! shed ’em!” 


132 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


More than ever Ludlow realized that the saloon was his 
natural retreat; that under its influences, whether in the 
city or frontier, the same passions and desires were aroused ; 
that the simple difference of material surroundings made 
little change in enjoyment. The associations here offered to 
his depraved character the same allurements that he had 
broken away from but a few days back. He could find solace 
in drink and gambling; and though discarded by the world 
could still find comfort in its estrangement. He would do 
penance for his past by plunging deeper and more recklessly 
in the whirlpool that now beset him. He continued drink- 
ing with his new-found friends; and later on, in a maudlin 
state, tempted the chances of the gambling table ; and was 
finally helped to his coarse and hard bed to sleep off his 
drunken stupor. He awakened late on the following day 
with aching head, and helpless sorrow in the discovery that 
much of his money had been lost the night before. In a 
dazed way he dressed himself. When he would have gone 
out into the cold air the discovery was made that his derby 
had been replaced by an old, dilapidated, soft hat, such as cow- 
boys wear. He could do no other than appear with it before 
his new-found friends. Though ashamed of it himself, he 
was hailed by the rowdies as if a laurel- wreath had been set 
upon his brow as an award for noble deeds. Then he was 
forced to treat the crowd for the compulsory humiliation. 

He went out into the streets again, that he might survey 
his surroundings more deliberately. He found the town 
sunk in a depression of the Cordilleras, with bleak and black 
mountain masses rising about him. In the clear air his eyes 
lingered irresistibly, through riven clefts, upon softened 


ON THE FRONTIER. 


133 


ranges painted upon the misty distance. An air of vagrancy 
clung to the town, as if it had no permanency, but would, 
like the people, migrate soon to other localities. The houses 
were dropped here and there without method, and straggled 
off, one and another, in a lonely way to the distant foot-hills. 
It was a mining town, beyond the reach of civilization and 
order. Dark-visaged Spaniards, stolid-faced Indians, gaunt 
and swaggering miners, reckless-looking cowboys, and 
scowling desperadoes loitered about the streets aimlessly, or 
hovered around the open saloons. A strange medley of de- 
generate humanity met Ludlow’s gaze everywhere. And 
this was the life he had chosen for himself. He felt ill at 
ease in his good clothes, realizing that they were a badge of 
suspicion. It was his old hat that now spared him the in- 
sults of the day before. It was a sign to the curious that 
the transformation had begun. In a few days they knew it 
would be completed, and his identity would be lost in the 
rough exterior and rowdy ways of the motley crowd. 

It is hardly profitable to follow Ludlow in his gradual 
transformation. It came about more quickly than the but- 
terfly from the chrysalis state, and was a change to a lower 
stage of bestiality. Deeper depths of sin contended for the 
mastery; and in discarding his ways of refinement, which 
had in part been left him as a legacy from childhood inno- 
cence, his effacement became complete; and he partook of 
the character of the scowling desperadoes he had noticed on 
the first day of arrival with shuddering dread. 

There is no level plain of sin. It is an ever-increasing 
down-grade, merging at last into a steepness that plunges 
the hapless victim, resistlessly, into eternity. Ludlow had 


134 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


reached this steep down-grade, and the precipice lay just 
before him. Mother, Stella, his old friends, were all forgot- 
ten in the downward whirl. They were effaced from his 
degraded memory, and they wondered in deepest sorrow 
why he no longer remembered them in the guarded mes- 
sages he had sent them through concealed avenues of the 
city. What could have happened to him? Mother and 
Stella wondered in agony as the long interval grew still 
longer, with an ominous dread of death brooding over their 
gloomy apprehensions. 

At length, on a clear day, in spring’s beautiful sunshine, 
the deadening thunder-clap broke upon Stella’s dazed and 
wearied senses, as a telegraph -message announced that he 
had been shot; to hasten immediately to his side. She 
sank to the floor, lost to consciousness from the cruel 
blow that had bereft her of every lingering hope. She 
awaked to reason at last, and to the appalling duty of break- 
ing the seal of secrecy to her parents and to the bereft and 
widowed mother — to deal the death-blow that would slowly 
kill. The message was immediate and importunate. Her 
tortured spirit cried in agony at the delays that must drag 
with snail-like sluggishness, the hours and days before she 
could be at his side. She was agonized with the dread duty 
that compelled her now to unlock her lips, and heap sorrow 
upon her loving and doting parents. The story of her 
false step she had lingeringly hoped to leave to some favor- 
able circumstance for the future to soften. A great burden 
of sorrow was now rolling over them all, that appalled with 
its threatening magnitude, and promised to crush and de- 
stroy. Stella bemoaned her hapless state, and the false step 


ON THE FRONTIER. 


135 


she had taken under the impulse of tainted love, purchased 
with deceit and unwomanly desires. Her whole life arose 
like repulsive ghosts to reproach her. But with all, her 
duty lay with her husband, dying, doubtless, in the distant 
West. She must fly to him. It could only be done over 
the agonized hearts of parents and their dead hopes. With 
trembling nerves and streaming eyes, she sought her 
mother’s side, and placed the telegram in her hands, and 
sank at her feet. 

The mother read it over and over again in breathless 
silence, struggling to grasp its import. “ Why does Ludlow 
send such a message to you, Stella? Why should you be de- 
graded by his thoughts?” 

She stood above her daughter, trembling like the leaves 
before the deadly, blighting w r inds of bleak November. A 
light began to break upon her. The message fell from her 
shaking hands to the floor, that touched Stella and startled 
her with affright. “What claim has he upon you, Stella? 
Tell me! Don’t kill me with suspense!” she cried, in bit- 
terness. 

Stella turned her affrighted, tear-stained eyes upon her 
mother for a moment — only for a moment — and as she beheld 
her haggard face, hid her own again in the folds of her 
mother’s dress, convulsed in sobs. 

“ Tell me the worst and doom my life to the grave,” 
Mrs. Bradley said, in a choking voice. “You can not more 
than kill mel Speak! What have you done?” she hoarsely 
cried. 

“ We are married, mother. I must go to him,” Stella 
answered, piteously. “O, forgive me! forgive me!” and she 


136 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


clung to her mother’s cold hand that seemed to shrink from 
her. 

“Forgive you? Forgive you?” she repeated over and 
over again, as if' pondering the word forgive to grasp its 
meaning. “ Forgive a daughter that would degrade herself 
and parents? My heart is suddenly turned to stone,” she 
repeated, in a strange, unnatural voice. “I don’t know 
how to forgive,” she said ; and then, turning a look of deep- 
est scorn upon the shrinking form at her feet, started as if 
to spurn her with her foot. 

“No, no! Not that!” she cried to herself, shrinking 
back. ' “ I can not be so cruel !” 

She was startled by the force of her own ungovernable 
bitterness ; and was aroused, in the instant, by the softer 
maternal feeling that she had so strangely lost for the time. 
She looked down on the groveling attitude of her daughter 
as a wave of pity swept over her, and then the fountain of 
her dried-up tears burst like a torrent. She sank into a 
chair at Stella’s side, and the two cried together as if the 
last ray of hope had sunk this side of the grave to both. 

Words could not dispel the heart-agony that convulsed, 
tears could not wash away the sorrow, agonizing groans 
or complaints could not unloose the cords that had bound 
her daughter to the skeleton of sin and reproach. The 
reality of the specter stood before her’ overshadowing every 
fond hope she had cherished for the daughter’s life happiness. 
She attempted to rise, and would have speechlessly left her, 
but from the floor Stella clung to her dress. 

“ Do n’t leave me, mother,” she cried. “ Say you forgive 
me, I implore you. I know — I know I ought to have con- 


ON THE FRONTIER. 


137 


fided all to you long ago. I should never have taken the 
step. 1 ought to have known it would break your heart. 
Poor, poor mother!” she cried, struggling to rise to her 
knees. “ O, you can not forgive ! You can not forgive !’• 
she moaned, as she sank again to the floor in a swoon. 

In the presence of such agony the mother forgot herself, 
and lifted her gently to her throbbing breast. Stella’s white 
face and relaxed form and deathlike eyes, that had turned in 
their sockets until only the whites could be seen, affrighted 
her. She screamed for help. The servant and Mr. Bradley 
both answered the startling summons. Slowly she crept 
back to life before them all, and, realizing at last that she was 
in her mother’s embrace, feebly wound her arms about her 
neck, and clung to her as the drowning are said to do to the 
rescuer. Both would live or die together. Then she 
looked with dread, that was like a gathering storm-cloud, to 
her father’s face. She could not repeat the story to him as 
she had done to the mother. It would kill her. She 
pleaded with her mother to take her to her room. 

“Tell papa! I can not! He must know all! It can 
not be kept back. O, I will go away and hide myself from 
your presence ! If you can not forgive me, I must die,” she 
cried, in tones of despair. 

Dumbly the father looked upon his daughter, agonizing 
before him. In tender pity he lifted her in his strong arms, 
and carried her to her room, and laid her gently upon her 
bed, and besought her to tell him her trouble. But it was 
too great for utterance. She buried her face in her pillow, 
and could but cry. Then he left her alone, and standing 
pleadingly and patiently before the mother, his silent look 


138 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


awaited her explanation. At last the story was told in 
broken sentences, and with a look of suffering that touched 
the heart of the stronger nature in pathetic sympathy. 

It is well that all do not look upon trouble with the same 
vision, else consolation or sympathy would have no power to 
lift the bruised heart from despair. Mr. Bradley recognized 
the unspeakable affliction that had come to mother and 
daughter, and felt it a duty to save them. The disgrace that 
had entered their hitherto untarnished home could not bo 
expelled. As a grim skeleton it had entered their closet, and 
must now be entertained. lie assuaged the heart-pains of 
the mother first; then together they went to the bedside of 
Stella, and forgave her. Her poor, tortured heart went out 
in such a wild storm of thankfulness in the tear-stained 
reconciliation, that both parents felt it a trial from heaven to 
test their loyalty to their daughter. 

Now they could review the past calmly. It was accepted 
as a necessity that Stella should respond to the appeal of the 
dying husband. She could go to him ; but the father would 
go with her to aid and protect. 




CHAPTER XII 


Widowed, 


HE swiftly-hurrying train carried Stella and her father 



1 westward only too slowly. It was a sorrowful journey, 
that burdened the heart with dread apprehensions. One 
after another the great cities disappeared from view ; then 
came rude, straggling towns; then treeless prairies; and 
finally the grim and bald mountain ranges that seemed to 
gradually surround them like an army of invasion. Civil- 
ization had strangely disappeared from off the earth, and its 
remembrance lingered as a dream. The narrow road-bed 
climbed higher, and wound about projecting cliffs, from 
whose dizzy heights they looked down into the silent valleys 
beneath, and on and on like a snaky coil, interminably. A 
measureless void lay between her little village home, crown- 
ing the graceful hilltop that lifted its crest above green fields 
and tempting pastures, and this bleak and wind-swept waste 
of towering rocks and black mountain ranges and forbidding 
gorges. 

All these grim scenes seemed to weave themselves into 


139 


140 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


her suffering heart-thoughts like the web and woof of a 
dismal tapestry picture. Still on and on the narrow track 
crept into the strange and formless distance, like the hours 
of her tortured life creeping into the unknown and fateful 
future. At last the train sank gradually into a deep de- 
pression of the mountains, that seemed solemnly silent to 
Stella’s tense and awe-swept senses. And there their journey 
ended beside a dingy, roughly-boarded room called the depot, 
without another house in sight. While wondering if some 
strange mistake had not been made, and fearing lest some 
cruel treachery had left them here to a sadder fate than they 
had already known, Stella looked with trembling despair 
at the departing train, losing itself behind a jutting spur of 
mountain masses, around which the track had curved. The 
blackest of shadows crept into her hapless life, as from 
the sunless crags that closely environed them ; and she hung 
with dread suspense upon what the next hour would bring. 

A strangely shy and rudely mannered man stood in the 
open door of the depot, with hands thrust deeply into his 
pockets, and a vacant, obtrusive stare of the eyes, as if spell- 
bound in curious amazement. 

“ Is this the town of ?” asked Mr. Bradley, hesitat- 

ingly, and with a feeling of thankfulness that he had come 
with Stella to protect her. 

“Yes,” answered the man, vacantly. 

Both Stella and her father looked along the mountain 
sides, up the valley, even to the distant summits: but no 
houses welcomed their searching gaze. 

“Where is the town?” asked Mr. Bradley, deeply per- 
plexed. 


WIDOWED . 


141 


“ Over there,” replied the automaton, with a jerk of the 
thumb over his shoulder. 

“How will we reach the place?” again Mr. Bradley 
ventured to ask. 

The man looked bewildered by the question, and then 
said with a little awaking of life: 

“Walk.” 

“ Walk?” ventured Stella, timidly. “Please tell us the 
way, good man. We will thank you very kindly.” 

This seemed to break the spell and arouse him. It must 
have been the presence of the woman that had dazed him 
till now, for his subsequent actions were quick enough. He 
probably had never before looked upon one so beautiful of 
face and form. He stepped forward with alert movement, 
and, taking the hand-satchel from Stella, started forward 
with long strides. Just beyond a little hill that had stood 
before them, they looked upon the straggling village of di- 
lapidated houses scattered indiscriminately about the valley. 
Only in one spot, from their point of vantage, did the houses 
seem to cluster together with any form of compactness. 
This was the business center in name, but in fact the saloon 
and gambling center. Slowly they picked their steps along 
the rough highway leading to the village. 

“ Ho you know Mr. Ludlow?” asked Stella of the man at 
length. 

“Ho,” he answered, turning a strangely quizzical look 
upon the two, after moments of thoughtfulness. 

“Are you sure you do not know Mr. Ludlow? He came 
to your place within the last few months only. You surely 
know him !” she said, with a pleading look and a voice of pain. 


142 


A CHILD OF NATURE . 


“No,” he persisted, shaking his head. “Don’t know 
anybody by that name.” 

Stella and her father exchanged troubled glances. They 
were now more perplexed than ever. The man seemed to 
divine that they were in distress ; he said : 

“A tenderfoot by the name of Bradley came here some 
time ago ; but he was shot awhile back. He lays up there 
now in the hotel. In a pretty bad way, I guess,” he added. 

“ Pray, take us to him!” Stella answered, with a choking 
voice and blanched features. “ Please, be quick.” 

The man looked for a moment at her excited, trembling 
form, and then hurried his steps; but not so fast but Stella 
and her father kept pace. 

A few steps farther on the guide stopped suddenly, as if 
from the impulse of an awakened thought. 

“ What might your name be?” he asked abruptly. 

“Bradley,” answered Stella. 

“That was his name. Come to think he changed it 
lately, and calls himself Ludlow now. Maybe it will be 
something else after awhile.” 

“ Please hasten and take us to his side,” implored Stella, 
with trembling hand touching lightly the arm of her perse- 
cutor. “We must see him immediately. O I would fly to 
him !” she cried with blanched and appealing face that 
deeply touched even his rough nature. 

Silently he started forward and strode faster. In a few 
moments more they stood at the open door of the saloon 
filled with a crowd of rough characters, from which she 
involuntarily shrunk. Their silent, respectful attitude and 
uncovered heads reassured her, and she stepped into their 


WIDOWED. 


143 


midst, and walked through the stifling tobacco-smoke to the 
creaking stairs that led to the story above. Never after- 
ward could she realize how this was done, or how she had 
found his room. But on the threshold she first saw the 
light of day looking through the gaping boards, and then 
felt the wind that, to. her excited senses, seemed to scream 
through the open cracks; and there, on the hard couch be- 
fore her, lay the silent and motionless form of a man — he, 
at last, whom she was seeking in sorrow. 

She hastened to his side. His eyes were glazed, and the 
red hectic flush glowed upon his sunken cheeks like a flame. 
She grasped his hot hand, and bent over his speechless lips 
and kissed them back to life. His glazed eyes looked from 
their languid lids upon her face intently, and then a faint 
smile played about his face like sunlight, and his lips spoke, 
with an effort, the single word : 

“ Stella!” 

“ Yes, Charley, I am with you at last,” she cried, her hot 
tears bathing his face as she hung over him. “ O, I will make 
you well!” she sobbed. “ I will make you well, dear!” 

The smile deepened as she spoke, and lingered about his 
face like a new-found joy. He faintly shook his head, and 
whispered : 

“ Too late ! Too late !” 

A strangely-beguiling disease is pyaemia. It is sometimes 
like a candle that has burned down to the last expiring wick. 
For moments the flame is dead, and darkness has succeeded ; 
and then, with a new-found drop or two of oil, it flares up 
again, and burns brightly, with promise of continuance. So 
with Ludlow now. He had rallied from the touch of death 


144 


A CHILD OF NA TURE . 


that had fixed his eyes in their sockets and paralyzed motion. 
He suddenly aroused before Stella’s eager gaze, and life ap- 
peared to be renewed with energy. He reached out his hand, 
and grasped hers with a show of strength. Her heart was 
lifted in the moment. Her tears were dried, and smiles 
gleamed instead. 

“I thought I would never see you again,” he said, in 
weakness. “You have been true to me, dear. All the 
world besides have turned away from me;” and he struggled 
to lift her hand to his parched lips for the imprint of a kiss. 
“ O how I have longed in pain to look once more upon your 
face ! I gave up the hope to-day — awhile back — and thought 
myself dying. The sensation was like that of falling asleep. 
I was beginning to dream — to dream of you — when the 
dream turned to reality. I am so happy! I will get well 
now, Stella, and we will build a little cottage here on the 
mountain-side, and live good lives. O I will work so hard, 
and be honest,” he said, looking tenderly into her face, “ and 
work as never man worked to provide for you. You will 
save me then, as you once promised to do. Won’t you, 
Stella?” 

“Yes, yes, dear! I’ll not leave you again,” she said, 
stroking his hot forehead. “ Only get well now, for my sakej 
dear.” 

“And mother,” he said, tenderly, “ we 'll send for her, 
and we ’ll all be together again. We ’ll live, O so differently 
from the past then, dear. The mountains here are full of 
gold. 1 ’ll burrow through and through them for it, and 
heap all at your feet for your loving-kindness in finding 
me out.” 


WIDOWED. 


145 


He was growing excited. Stella stroked his hot hand, 
and begged him to rest. 

“ Your strength will grow, dear, with my nursing; and 
then we can say everything. Eest now for awhile, won’t 
you, dear?” she pleaded. 

“ Yes, I will,” he answered, eagerly, and lay for a mo- 
ment looking intently into her face. It was a happy look, 
like that of childhood. Those memories had come in a 
glad train to his bedside to cheer the last expiring view of 
earthly things. 

“I am so happy!” he said, with a sigh; and the lids of 
his eyes closed as if to shut out the world in restful sleep. 
But it was the flickering light of the candle that had burned 
up the few drops of oil that had fed the flame for a brief 
while. He faintly strove to smile again. Then a chill swept 
over his wasted form, that shook the bed and started great 
beads of sweat upon his face. The storm grew into a calm 
again ; and then the lids lifted from his eyes that were 
steadily fixed on Stella’s face, and lingered thus in the rigid 
stare of death. Stella clung to his cold hand, unconscious 
that his lips were sealed forever — that his heart beat no 
longer for her. She waited breathlessly, as she thought, for 
him to awake from sleep. But she was aroused at last by 
the touch of her father’s hand on her head, as it rested there 
tremblingly. 

“ Come, Stella!” he said ; “ Charley sleeps his last sleep.” 

She turned a look of terror on the father. 

“Head?” she cried. “It can not be!” and she touched 
his forehead, his face, stroked his motionless hand, and 
kissed his irresponsive lips over and over again, and called 

10 


146 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


his name endearingly. She could not arouse him. She 
awaked at last to the blighting truth that he was dead. 

Not a sound came up through the thin boards from the 
rough crowd of men below them. They all felt the solemn 
presence of sorrow and death. It was an awakening to 
many of thoughts that had long lain dormant in their aban- 
doned natures. The presence of a loving woman brought back 
mothers, wives, and children they had left behind long ago. 
The latent spark of pity, love, and tenderness that had lin- 
gered somewhere in their sin-steeped and degraded hearts, 
unknown to themselves, seemed to have a strange renewing. 
They could not do enough for the stricken widow above 
them. They, too, suffered with her agonizing sorrow, and 
in many a rough way displayed the tender touches of pity 
that crime had entirely effaced until this awakening. 

Sadly enough, the present was but an episode in their 
abandoned, sin-cursed lives. As the presence of sorrow 
would again pass from view, they would start once more on 
the down-grade, and with still swifter velocity. 

The adjoining room to Charley’s death-chamber had 
been kindly given over to Stella alone. With tireless de- 
votion, they one and all strove with each other to watch 
over the clay that was precious to the bereaved widow. All 
noise was hushed, save for the faint clinking of glasses and 
decanters where the crowd drank in silence, or were in 
whispered converse, beneath the room of desolation. 

One of the men, in his illiterate and oath-roughened way, 
narrated the incident that had led to the fatal tragedy. It 
was told to Mr. Bradley, as they walked alone in the early 
morning following the death, the white mist creeping up the 


WIDOWED. 


147 


mountain sides before them, and lingering like a screen before 
its rifts and rugged ness. Thero seemed to Mr. Bradley a 
solemn stillness of the air, that oppressed the heart and 
hearing, and deepened the effect of the story. It was a 
drunkard’s gambling-brawl — a thing of common occurrence 
only, the narrator said. 

“ This dead man was too generous, and not quick enough 
with his gun. It was one of the worst men of the camp 
who had picked a quarrel with him. He fancied he had lost 
money unfairly. If he did,” said the man, earnestly, “ it 
was only his own rule of cheating others that was played 
upon himself. He had no right to complain. We tried to 
warn your friend ; but he was drunk, and could not under- 
stand. It was but a few words, and the gun was drawn, 
and then the bullet crashed into his side. We all knew ho 
could not live, even if a doctor could be had. We then urged 
him to send word to his friends. It was from the telegraph 
message that we learned he had another name.” 

It was a plain, simple story, often repeated before in 
other camps among the wild hills of this secluded country. 
It was told in other language, and with more graphic 
effect; but the circumstances appear as well with one tell- 
ing as another. 

Stella could not consent that his poor body should find a 
nameless interment here, where all traces w r ould soon be lost 
forever. He must be taken back to his old home cemetery, 
where a shaft could mark his resting-place, and be seen by 
those who yet clung to his memory. A hasty preparation 
was made ; and with the shades of night creeping up the 
valley, a silent procession, composed of a rough, motley line of 


148 


ON THE FRONTIER. 


men, slowly followed after the plain coffin and the weeping 
widow and sorrowing father, to the lonely depot. They 
looked upon the express-car, as the box was hid from view, 
and with uncovered heads remained a silent group until the 
train swept beyond their sight on the homeward flight. 

The strange question here obtrudes — which were more 
blessed; the silent dead, or the living, stormed-tossed, de- 
graded ones beyond the reach of hope, who now hastened 
back to their dens of sin ? 



CHAPTER XIII. 


Reconciliation. 



'HE homeward journey was slow and wearisome. It 


1 gave time for retrospection and reflection ; and with 
them came a sad train of self-accusations. Stella was return- 
ing to her home now, to meet her friends with a smirch of 
reproach on her character, and the struggle to live down the 
errors of a false step. The burden of her self-reproaches 
was largely on Janie’s account, whose love for Charley she 
had supplanted, she thought, and by methods unwomanly 
as well as unkind. She had betrayed a pure and valued 
friendship for a treasure that had withered in her grasp. She 
could never again claim that friendship, and an aching void 
must remain to her life. She felt herself doubly bereaved. 

The train reached Cincinnati during the night of Satur- 
day. It was a soft, beautiful, sunlit morning that ushered 
in the Sabbath. Slowly the remains of the once cherished 
and happy boy were taken to the peaceful village home, to 
meet the interment that would set the seal of forgiveness 
and forgetfulness upon the lowly mound of earth, beneath 
which he was to sleep his last sleep. 


149 


150 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


The morning hour of service was given over to the ob- 
sequies ; and, when the cortege drove solemnly before the 
church-gate, a shadow like a pall seemed to creep over the 
bystanders, and into the church, and over the hearts there 
of its crowded seats; and responsive sobs broke the oppress- 
ive silence everywhere. It was no ordinary burial ; for a 
poor mother and a hapless widow, sinking beneath the weight 
of a sin-lost son and husband, were there in their presence; 
and pity wrung their hearts for the soul that had winged its 
flight to the great Judge of good and evil, out beyond the 
bounds of time. It was as with a feeling of awe that all 
were speechless; and the broken sobs but added to the 
solemnity of the scene. 

Not a soul but reviewed the past, in the moments that 
the body of Charley Ludlow was borne to the church-door 
and within. He was a boy again to them ; as of old, he was the 
impulsive, fair-faced pet of all ; his quick, ardent nature grew 
before them into a restless, self-willed rebellion against re- 
straints; then his change to the great city and his gradual 
transformation to shrinking avoidance of friends; and then, 
with dread suspicions confirmed, his final flight and death. It 
was a harrowing retrospection, that oppressed every parental 
heart now in the thought of their own sons growing into 
manhood, with the same temptations that had killed Charley 
stalking boldly before them. Would they pass through the 
ordeal, and reach manhood unscathed ? And the thought ap- 
palled, in the presence of the sad ending of this promising 
life, now cold in an untimely death. 

No sadder fate to boys than, at the very threshold of life, 
to step aside into the broad way that leads to death ! This 


RECONCILIATION. 


151 


was the burden that oppressed the aching hearts that were 
thinking and sorrowing over the sad fate that seemed to 
hover around the black coffin resting at the foot of the altar 
now. The preacher’s words fell with measured emphasis on 
the deathlike silence, as they kindly recalled the good of the 
young man in early life. Then, in a general way, was 
reviewed the untainted and unalloyed happiness that comes 
to every good life; and a touching contrast was drawn be- 
tween good and^evil, concluding with Taul’s solemn warning 
that “the sting of death is sin.” 

At the little cemetery, where the effect of the broad out- 
look over the peaceful valley lingered in impressive beauty 
about the speechless tombstones, the last leave-taking was 
made that consigned Ludlow to the worm and the dust. 
Now it was but the memory that lingered behind. Soon, 
even this would be extinguished, and the grim thought that 
a life dedicated to sin can not make a single friend on earth, 
or one to say that life was blessed, impresses with the con- 
viction that sin is profitless. Good deeds live after us; and 
their blessings go on, like the silent waves, to unknown and 
distant ages. Better good than evil. 

Now, in the lonely realization that all was ended, Stella 
felt the force of an ungovernable impulse to console the poor 
mother. It was the last and only obligation that could en- 
gage her lingering love for him. The old and decrepit 
woman was in a pitiably disconsolate state, distracted by 
her loneliness and poverty and sorrow. She, too, would 
have hid beneath the ground that seemed friendly to her in 
her longings; but £he oblivion of death was denied her. 
She craved only to be alone, for none could console. With 


152 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


the passing days she rocked, rocked, rocked, in her little 
chair more incessantly; she looked into vacancy more ab- 
stractedly; she muttered to herself more unintelligibly; 
she seemed to age more witheringly; and her features as- 
sumed a more settled haggardness. Her blasted and withered 
life clung more tenaciously to her wasted body. It was a 
lingering death she suffered, fed by the torments of gnaw- 
ing despair. She permitted only Stella now to minister to 
her, as if she recognized in her a depth of sympathy she 
could see in no other face. 

The day of supreme sorrow had passed with Charley’s 
burial, and then Stella’s mind was recalled to things about 
her. It was a speechless, grief-stricken life she awaked to, 
in which a settled aching seemed to linger about the heart, 
and wearied the brain, and that had no hope beyond the pain 
itself. The future seemed to her a measureless void — a bur- 
densome contumely that could not be escaped; and her 
beautiful face was shadowed by a settled melancholy, where 
no smiles could play. A deep asperity of feeling induced 
her to think herself discarded by the villagers, attaching to 
her the odium that had clung to the husband, and left to her 
now as his legacy. It was a feeling of hopeless abandonment. 
The sentiment had burrowed deeper and deeper into her 
nature during the brief trials of her past few weeks, in 
which had occurred marriage, death, interment, widowhood, 
blighted hopes; and she now seemed to sink still deeper 
into despondency with the completion of each succeeding 
hour. It was a sad ending of young womanhood's eager 
hopes and desires, and through the operations of her own 


RECONCILIATION. 153 

indiscretion. This dreadful self-abasement was in its bitter- 
est torment immediately after Charley’s burial. 

Then Janie’s light step halted at her door, and her gentle 
knock seemed to reverberate through the silent halls. It 
was answered by Mrs. Bradley. She started as from an ap- 
parition, when she looked into her tender, pleading eyes. A 
ray of sunshine seemed to be reflected into Mrs. Bradley’s 
face; for a 'faint smile swept over it, as, in a subdued and 
gentle way, she greeted Janie. She did not ask her to enter, 
but stood in a dumbly hesitating way, overcome with em- 
barrassment. 

Then Janie plaintively said, holding out her little hand 
in supplication to the mother: 

“ Can I not see Stella a moment? Please let me see her, 
just a moment!” 

Mrs. Bradley still hesitated, and then silently but sadly 
shook her head. 

“ O I must see her ! Do n’t deny me ! I must see her !” 
pleaded Janie, in deepest earnestness. 

Falteringly, the mother answered that Stella had charged 
her not to admit any one now. “After a while,” she urged. 

“ But now, Mrs. Bradley. Tell Stella that it is her old 
friend Janie that wants to see her a moment. I know she 
will make an exception of me. Please tell her,” urged Janie, 
imploringly. 

“O, I can not!” answered the mother, hopelessly. 

Then tears came to Janie’s eyes, defeated in her desires to 
console her old friend of happier days, and she turned sadly 
to retrace her steps. 


154 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“Give her my love, please, and tell her that I can not bo 
happy if she does not see me.” 

There was so much of pathetic tenderness and sincerity 
in Janie’s words, that Stella, from the head of the stairs, 
hearing them, relented; and, as Janie turned sadly away, 
she called her name. 

Her drooping spirits revived in the instant, and she 
eagerly sprang forward, and in the next moment held Stella 
closely in her arms, and imprinted kiss after kiss on her 
fevered face. In speechless emotion Stella silently wept, 
her tears flowing like a flood unrestrainedly. A great throb 
of hope came to her deadening despair, and her heart beat 
fast in the presence of Janie’s forgiving spirit. The mother 
loft the two alone in the little drawing-room ; for she could 
not remain a witness of the touching reunion. 

There were grief and pity in Janie’s eyes, as she looked 
into the pale and haggard face, as she held her stricken form 
in close embrace. 

“Let me comfort you, Stella,” she said. “You must not 
be cast down. There is a silver lining to the cloud, be as- 
sured.” 

Then Stella seemed to shake herself from the oppression 
and sobs that had mastered her,- and with a plaintive cry, 
her head sinking onto Janie’s shoulder, she moaned: 

“ Forgive me, Janie ! O forgive me !” 

“ There is nothing to forgive, dear, nothing,” Janie an- 
swered. “Our childhood love has come back to us. There 
is no estrangement.” 

Stella could not answer then, but in a few moments she 
looked into Janie’s singular face of beauty, and kissed her 


RECONCILIA TION. 


1 55 


lips, as she had loved to do but a brief whilo back, when in 
the sunshine of an uninterrupted affection. 

“ O yes,” she said, “ there is much to forgive — more than 
mortal can efface from the heart.” 

“ But, Stella, it is my heart that speaks, not the lips,” 
Janie urged, laughing lightly through her tears. 

“Yes, yes! Your forgiving ways I have known in the 
past ; but my sins are beyond forgiveness. My self-re- 
proaches are now the rock upon which my unhappy life 
promises to wreck itself. I can atone for everything else but 
my deceitfulness with you. O, that was cruel and wicked, 
and my heart is now tortured beyond — ” 

But Janie would not permit the pitiful self-reproaches to 
go on. She broke in upon the tempest of sorrow by putting 
her little hand over her mouth. 

“Stop! Stop! Stella!” she cried. “I came to comfort 
you, not to set aflame the fire of remorse. That will hurt 
us both. Not a vestige of reproach remains in my heart. 
I suffer and agonize with you in your sore affliction. I am 
here to claim your friendship as of old, and in return to 
be to you a sister in helpfulness and affection. There is 
nothing between us but love — only love. Do you under- 
stand me, Stella? Only love!” and she repeated the word 
over and over again, that she might blot out every other 
word and thought by its repetition. 

Stella’s clinging look and embrace held closer to Janie. 
She began to realize that Janie’s words were not a meaning- 
less balm, but the true ointment that alone could heal the 
wounded heart. She had longed for this love in all her self- 
reproaches ; and now, here it was in its original purity and 


156 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


ardency. She could not be mistaken, for Janie had ever been 
true to her pretensions. -She had no guile, nor envy, nor 
hatred, nor malice, she knew. She believed, in the moment, 
that nothingof thepast would ever be recalled — that her heart 
was swept clean of every taint of reproach. Only the lovely 
and harmonious remained to beautify. While thus swiftly 
reasoning as to Janie, the dread of her own self remained 
to hurt her, and under its impulse she exclaimed aloud: 

“O, I can not forget! I can not forgive myself!” 

Janie writhed under the pain of that self-torture, which 
gave Stella’s face a look of despair that seemed hopelessly 
discouraging. She would blot out the memory of the past 
few months from Stella’s mind, but that was beyond her 
power. It would linger on, however much her own words 
and acts would wrestle with the present. Memory would join 
with conscience to apply the lash of remorse. In the deli- 
cate and mysterious human organism, there is that within 
itself to punish by constant racking pains of self-condemna- 
tion. Janie felt this deeply in her sensitive heart and over- 
burdened desire to help Stella. It was with a plaintive cry, 
like the voice of pain, that she said : 

“ You have no occasion to call up the past now, Stella. 
That is buried,” she moaned, looking tenderly into her face, 
and clinging tightly to her hand. “We are to live again in 
our old friendship, Stella. That had no bitterness, you know. 
It was bright with the loveliness of nature in its soft winds 
and flowers and the music of birds. It was an untainted 
pleasure that we enjoyed through all our senses, and with the 
added joy of friendship. It can be no less now, Stella. Your 
young life must not be crushed out by the dismal sorrow 


RECONCILIATION. 


157 


which has come upon you. I shall cling to you to lift you 
up, if only you will let me, Stella. You must; you must 
banish self-reproaches; for they are vain,” and she drew her 
still closer to her with a soothing touch and manner that 
did much to break through the gloom, and through the rift, 
to let in a few rays of struggling sunlight of cheerfulness. 

Turning her relenting look upon Janie’s intently earnest 
face, Stella said, with words of touching sweetness to Janie’s 
ears : 

“ The loss of your friendship has been more oppressive to 
my burdened heart than all else; for it was a friendship I 
betrayed, and could not hope to regain. It seemed, through 
all my dismal sufferings, to be the only anchor to which I 
could cling. I could do no other than reproach myself. I 
was ashamed to look into your pure face ; for there I seemed 
to read even more bitter reproaches than from my own 
heart. To live in the same village, and feel your silent and just 
indifference, which I could but expect, would, I believe, have 
distracted me. I have been an alien, until your precious 
words ransomed me, to every hope and happiness on earth. 
O Janie, dear, I can not tell you with meaningless words 
the joy you have brought to my poor heart 1” and hot tears 
flowed afresh from the eyes of both in the presence of the 
reconciliation that could not be doubted. They clung to 
each other with a renewal of love that, in its purity, angels 
could rejoice over.” 

Janie’s mission was not fruitless, she felt, in the unspeak- 
ably affecting moments in which their arms were entwined 
about each other as of old. She was strangely happy. She 
had gained an entrance to her friend’s heart that could never 


158 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


again be closed against her. She would live with a single- 
ness of purpose to ransom Stella’s life. She said : 

“You will promise mo now, Stella, to love me just the 
same as of old. Remember, nothing has ever happened to 
cross our lives. We begin again just where we left off by 
the river in the beautiful springtime. No reference to the 
past will ever again mar our clear sunlight of joy and con- 
fidence,” and she looked lingeringly into Stella’s face for the 
assurance she craved. 

“Yes, yes, Janie, just as of old, if you will promise not to 
think of the last time we met — when I was so cruelly unjust 
to you before Mr. Wentworth. That cruelty has been like a 
nightmare to me. You surely can not forgive that offense. 
O that was cruel, cruel ingratitude! I loathe myself for it. 
How could I «have done so great a wrong !” she cried, as if in 
intensest suffering. 

As that incident was recalled, Janie’s face blanched, and 
she felt a trembling wave surge over her; but it was for 
only a moment, for then her strong will asserted itself, and 
she answered quickly in the presence of the storm that 
seemed to be gathering force again in Stella’s words : 

“No, no, Stella! All, all is past, never to be recalled. 
Do not bring up single acts now to intrude upon our happi- 
ness ! There is nothing, nothing between us 1” And Stella 
was overcome by Janie’s impetuous manner. 

Now and forever the door was to be closed and locked 
and barred against every specter of the past. The seal was 
not to be broken again. Stella felt this with the deepest as- 
surance. Janie had indeed accomplished all that her gentle 


RECONCILIATION. 


159 


heart had desired, and she, too, was happy — happier, pos- 
sibly, than ever before. 

Now they began to talk, as of old, in confidence, and in 
freedom. The past was recalled in sorrow, it is true, and 
with showers of tears ; but they w r ere like spring showers, 
softening the soil for the bursting forth of the dormant 
seeds that winter had paratyzed. Janie, in a pitiful way, 
listened to the brief letter that had called Stella to the altar, 
and heaped its burden of secrecy upon her. She read the 
telegram that had caused her flight to the distant West, and 
heard the story of the touching death that had made her a 
widow. The coils of sin and suffering had been wound about 
Stella’s life so relentlessly that she was helpless before the 
state of bondage had been recognized. 

The first coil, Janie knew, had started with Stella’s for- 
getfulness of herself, and in the first permission of unnatural 
freedom on Charley’s part. The succeeding coils were more 
easily and still more easily wound about her, her powers of 
resistance growing constantly weaker with each yielding to 
temptation. It was but the natural and insidious progress 
of sin and temptation, that blunts the moral powers and 
blinds the eyes with each succeeding advancement and 
yielding. 

The story unfolded before Janie’s pure heart in all its 
harrowing and repulsive details. It was a story to make her 
shudder, knowing so well many of the shifting scenes that 
had been enacted before her own gaze, and in which she had 
participated. In her silent heart she thanked her God that 
she had escaped the toils that had been set for her, giving 


160 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


all the credit in the moment to the Divine influence that sho 
had accepted as a part of her daily life. 

To-day and in this hour, new hope had come to Stella, 
lifting her heart and desires to the presence of the God of 
purity in human nature, that alone elevates it and emanci- 
pates from sin and degradation. Janie’s gentle act of forgive- 
ness, and her hopeful words of encouragement had turned 
her to the solemn resolution of a better life. She felt an in- 
nate strength of character grow in the moment, and there 
seemed to flash before her eyes a new sunlight, that swept 
her heart with joy. It was a strange and new awakening 
that seemed to light the way to future happiness. We can 
believe that it was the light that comes through the Author 
of the moral forces permeating human destiny — a light that 
awaits the opening doors of every heart, to dispel its gloom 
and sorrow and taint of sin. Human experience has taught 
that those doors can only be opened by the effacement of 
self; and many times through the sore trials of sorrow. 
Self stands too often as a relentless sentinel barring the ap- 
proach of friends or instrumentalities that would open up to 
the light the dim recesses of the heart. 

“ You will not leave me, Janie, will you?” Stella cried, 
now realizing the force of her thoughts and emotions and 
dependence upon Janie. She clung to her as the only hope 
upon which she could rely. 

And as Janie was leaving the house, she was met by the 
mother’s tender face at the door, and she felt the warm press- 
ure of her hand, and caught her broken words : “ God bless 
you, Janie 1 You are as a ministering angel to our home!” 



CHAPTER XIY. 

The Weary at Rest. 

S TELLA grew into Janie’s life more and more closely 
with each passing day. In this blending of hopes and 
desires Stella gradually lost the sting of her own heart- 
reproaches, and slowly emerged from settled gloom and 
retirement. Janie’s self-imposed mission was sanctioned by 
all the villagers, and a spirit of reverence for her beauti- 
ful devotion to the one whose hate had wounded her, led 
them to bless and love her. In her good work she was un- 
conscious of other approval than that of her Heavenly 
Father and her own pure heart. Her unselfish impulses 
passed to others, and called to aid their efforts of consolation 
as well, until, in time, Stella realized that a forgiving spirit 
lingered, like the pure sunlight and glowing warmth of the 
atmosphere, about her. 

In the presence of this transformation of sentiment, Stella 
grew into a lingering contrast of her own and Janie’s im- 
pulses, and studied as she had never done before the source 
from whence had sprung her disinterested and spontaneous 

161 


162 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


devotion. As they had played in childhood, or lingered on 
the border of young maidenhood together, their harmonious 
and unirritating association had not called to mind the im- 
pulses back of her friend’s daily acts and kindly ways. But 
as she now grew into a perfect dependence upon Janie’s 
association for happiness, she silently struggled with the 
secret. One mystery after another was solved in the glare of 
the new light that now surrounded her. The first pleasant 
realization was that of her unselfish spirit; then her forgiv- 
ing tendency; then her sincere tenderness of heart, that 
suffered with the sufferings of others — a sympathy one could 
not doubt; then an underlying purity that could not live in 
the presence of sin or taint of the passions; and then, and 
doubtless the most beautiful of her graces, came to her un- 
derstanding her faith in God, upon which all the rest were 
builded as upon a solid rock. 

Then broke upon her mind, like a beautiful light lighting 
up the assurance, the source of her love of nature, that she 
had so strangely ascribed to childishness and weakness of 
character. She had never until now understood her friend. 
She had been impatient with her, tolerating her peculiarities 
as diverting amusement ; but now how beautiful they had 
become to her; how immeasurably sacred were they; how 
infinitely exalted above her own worldly wisdom and im- 
pulses ! 

Without Janie., in all probability, Stella would have 
drifted on into abandonment; for her impulses were nat- 
urally stronger than her will, and the false step she had 
taken would have led to others. She had felt herself an 
outcast on her return to her home ; and with blighted hopes 


THE WEARY AT REST. 


163 


and the sense of disgrace pushing her on, she would have 
gravitated to a lower level, or lingered in a life of blighting 
sorrow and remorseful reproaches. Such is but the life- 
history of many a lovely wreck. Sin can not save from sin 
and degradation ; for it defiles and corrupts all it touches. 
Moral forces have the power only to purge the heart of evil. 

The contrast of lives thus illustrates the forces at work to 
destroy or save human nature in its hurried flight from the 
cradle to the grave. Womanly nature seldom recovers from 
disgrace. Gradually Stella awaked to these truths as she 
witnessed the forgiving sympathy of her old associates, in- 
spired by Janie’s gentle and tender ministrations. Her 
heart softened from rebellion to a submissive acceptance of 
God’s presence in her life. She realized now that she had 
been saved from sin and a life of hopeless misery that had 
awaited her bondage with Ludlow. It was not Janie alone, 
but the Divine Spirit that had reached out to save her, and 
turn the current of her desires into a new channel. 

Would that the t^ue force of such lives could be made to 
appear so clearly as to warn young, unsuspecting woman- 
hood from the first dalliance with sin ! The child, in its first 
efforts to walk, does not master the art, and break into a run, 
more quickly than the innocent soul taking its first steps in 
sin, and then into a headlong rush to destruction. The pic- 
ture of Janie’s and Stella’s lives is not unreal. Janie’s life 
is not an exaggerated one. She but prefigures the impulses 
of every other pure and refined and godlike nature. Such 
characters stand out clearly defined in every community, 
and are lights illumining happy homes everywhere. They 
are recognized in mothers, sisters, wives ; in the untiring 


164 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


ministrations of the nurse and missionary; in the self-sacri- 
ficing workers among the slums and pitfalls of the outcast. 
There is a noble side to human nature, exalted by the touch 
of Divinity, that can not be denied. 

Janie and Stella had reached the station in their careers 
where the contrast of lives can be drawn to best advantage, 
where Stella’s weakness of character had changed to strength, 
where her impulses and evil propensities had become effaced. 
Janie’s part in the good work speaks for itself. It is an ap- 
peal to the better nature in young womanhood that it may 
escape the snare that is set for all ; and a still stronger ap- 
peal against the entertainment of the tempter’s presence in 
any form. Life will be foul or fair as the choice is made. 

Together Stella and Janie ministered to the growing 
physical and mental weakness of Mrs. Ludlow. Her only 
smiles feebly played upon her dismal face in their presence. 
She seemed to linger on the verge of life in a helpless way. 
Ho hopes or longings ever crept into her frozen heart, or 
found expression upon her parched lips. Hers was a silent 
abandonment of life, feebly sustained by the mechanical op- 
erations of exhausted nature. The hopes and desires and 
emotions had gone before the breath. It was the with- 
ered shell that lingered behind. With Charley’s death 
the last ray of light had been extinguished. She had clung 
to him in her poverty and neglect and consciousness of evil, 
and would not believe him unkind or forgetful. But she 
was at last blighted, and lingered for a while, a withered 
stock for the frosts of age to nip at. In ministering to this 
poor stranded human wreck, Janie and Stella now vied with 
each other in earnest rivalry. The old lady's life was eased 









u Now the three were, as usual, on the porch together/' 

—Page 165. 



THE WEARY AT REST. 


165 


of many a heartache and physical discomfort by their gen- 
tle acts. Their reward was an occasional sad smile and 
smothered words of gratitude, and in witnessing her peace- 
ful contentment as they lingered about her. 

Months have passed since the death of Ludlow. There 
seemed to have been an effacement of his memory from the 
hearts of all in the brief while. TIis presence lingered in 
Stella’s silent thoughts, but the pain had gone from the heart. 
They had known so little of true happiness in their brief mar- 
riage relationship, that now the past came back as more of a 
dream, shadowed by an undefined oppressive feeling — an op- 
pression that lingers after an awakening, without the ability 
to recall the nightmare that had made it somber. 

It was midsummer again and the heat was intense. To 
catch the listless breeze that came up from the valley with 
the waning of the day, each one would seek the shelter of 
their shaded porches. Together Janie and Stella would lead 
the old mother to her high-backed‘rocking-chair, and gently 
place her in the folds of its soft cushions. Her uncomplaining 
words would then be poured out in unintelligible sentences 
for a time, mingled with feeble smiles. Then all sounds 
would be hushed, and her vacant stare would linger into 
space. Though Janie and Stella would then converse in 
freedom, no topic or tone of voice 'would arouse her from 
her vacancy or lethargy. 

How the three were, as usual, on the porch together — 
the one intently silent, the other two in light conversation. 
Some remark had turned their thoughts upon the responsi- 
bility of the young to themselves. Stella had said that, “ It 
was difficult to solve the problem as to how far human acts 


166 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


could be trusted,” and a shadow of pain lingered on her face 
in the presence of the thoughts thus aroused. 

“ Responsibility to one’s self is measured by one’s re- 
sponsibility to God’s demands,” answered Janie with a 
smile. Then she added, as from a sudden impulse : “ There 
can be no compromise with license without danger of defile- 
ment.” 

In the instant she felt that their light talk had suddenly 
halted in the face of Stella’s lingering self-reproaches — that 
to speak freely and boldly might open painful wounds that 
she had hoped were entirely cured. She was uncertain of 
the real import of Stella’s thought, and now silently awaited 
her further expression. 

Stella seemed slow in speaking again, and remained so 
long deeply rapt in silent thought that Janie feared the 
little she had said had pained her. Then she hastened 
to say: 

“ Forgive me, Stella ! Perhaps I spoke without thinking.” 

Stella looked up into Janie’s face as if awaking from a 
dream, struggling to recall its fleeting memory. Then she 
answered, abstractedly: 

“ It is so strange ! Shadowy dreams and what we do, so 
mistily blend. It is hard at times to tell where one ends aiid 
the other begins.” 

Janie caught the thought with exultant eagerness. 

“ Yes,” she answered, “that is the sentiment that has ever 
seemed to etherealize the life of earth and mistily blend it 
with the life beyond the cares and pitfalls and tormenting 
memories here. They all are the shadowy dreams that will 
fade away as the new and beautiful light shall break upon 


THE WEARY AT REST . 


167 


the vision after a while. It will be the happy thoughts, the 
memory of the beauties of God’s presence in lovely nature, 
the approving conscience, the assurances of untainted acts, 
that will remind us of what we have been and what we have 
done.” 

Her words were answered by a lingering smile from 
Stella’s expressive face, and a tender gaze that seemed to 
dwell upon Janie’s calm look as upon an absorbing mystery. 

The old mother, rocking so lightly in her chair that it 
seemed scarce to move, turned her vacant look towards the 
two, as Janie ceased to speak, and a pitiful but bright smile 
lit up her wasted features in their presence. She moved as 
if to speak — then feebly lifted her withered hand as if to 
point to something out in space — and then laid her wearied 
head back upon the cushion, and closed her eyes to sleep. 
It was her final sleep, so quiet and reposeful that the two 
were now hushed into silence, fearing to wake her. The 
weary one was at rest. The gentle hand of death had come 
so quietly to bear away the tired spirit, that the body felt 
no pang; and the breath ceased, as the gentle zephyr fades 
in the fervent heat of the wasted summer day. 

Janie and Stella talked in whispers, and the mother 
slept quietly on. The sun sank beneath the western 
horizon in the luminous mist that hung about the distant 
sky; the shades of evening crept silently over the valley, 
and up to the hilltop, and hid the neighboring woods in 
shadows — and still she slept on peacefully and undisturbed. 
Then, the two would prepare her for the night’s broken 
slumber, as they thought, and wondered at the long and 
placid sleep, in which she seemed so firmly locked, as they 


168 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


looked upon her piteously, tenderly. They would arouse 
her, and lamented that they could not let her rest — her sleep 
was so quiet and undisturbed. Together, in the dim twilight, 
they stepped to her side to assist her feeble steps, as usual. 
They gently touched her passive hands; but they were 
strangely cold. They had left her too long in the night 
air — she had become chilled in her deep sleep, they reproach- 
fully said to themselves. Then they gently shook her light 
form; but she would not arouse. They were bewildered, 
and became suddenly alarmed. They looked close into her 
set eyes, over which the rigid lids were half closed. Then 
the alfright of death came to both in the instant. “ She is 
dead 1” they exclaimed as with one voice. Her sorrows had 
ended. The sins of the wayward boy had spent their force 
on the mother at last. She would now lie humbly by his 
side, to whom she had clung through all her afflictions. 

The neighbors tenderly prepared her for the rest her 
wearied spirit had longed for; and laid her away in her little 
earthy bed beside her wayward son, and hallowed the part- 
ing by many a tear. Hers had been a life of desolation, yet 
of unshaken faith in her boy. As an infant, his innocent 
smiles had exalted her; as a child, his prattling tongue had 
reconciled her to her poverty ; as a young man, his beauty and 
promise had cheered her fainting spirits with fond hopes; 
and then, when he'had, like a serpent, stung her to the heart, 
poisoning her life, she still clung to him. His sin had 
wrought its sad work upon her sorrowful life, aud death 
was at last a refuge and release from pain. 

How often are young men the terrible executioners of 
their own mothers — killing, not only the body, but blight- 


TEE WEARY AT REST. 


169 


ing every hope and happiness ! The picture is a sad one. 
The example thus portrayed is of daily occurrence. Will- 
fully? Perhaps not. When the dalliance with sin was first 
indulged, there was no thought of future degradation and 
death. When drink had gained the mastery ; when the 
brutal passions had overcome the manhood ; when helpless 
degradation had effaced the nobility natural to human na- 
ture, — then the horrors of the end overshadowed, not only the 
sin-cursed one, but those near and dear as well. Sin is not 
single-handed, resting only on the victim, but reaches out to 
innocent ones, who suffer most. 

Stella thought much in this way, in the sad days follow- 
ing the death of the blasted life to which she had ministered 
so kindly. She realized the force of her own actions upon 
her own home, as keenly as now she realized that of Charley 
upon the life of his poor mother. She looked upon life as 
she had never done before, and sadly repented over the past. 
She looked at Janie’s undisturbed equanimity of character 
with an engrossing fascination, in this added trial. She had 
no smitings of conscience to disturb her, no regrets, no con- 
sciousness of injury to others, no assurance of heartaches 
and wounded sensibilities. Her step was light, her smiles 
were bright and pure, her heart was untainted, her home- 
life unclouded. 

O, how Stella clung to Janie now in the tumult of 
her reproachful contrasts 1 The storms that had prema- 
turely aged her could not touch her friend; for the 
purity of the flowers she loved so dearly seemed to cling to 
her and give out their beauty and fragrance in her spotless 
unselfishness. That purity and beauty was born of moral 


170 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


sentiments glorified by divine purity — not from sin, with the 
horrors of perdition clinging to it. 

Stella sat one evening, soon after the burial of Mrs. Lud- 
low, and watched, from the porch, the sun sinking behind a 
black stormcloud that rose ominously in masses from the 
west. It was all scarred over with lightning flashes, and 
was terrible with threatening destruction. She watched 
tremblingly the whirling masses climbing higher and higher 
over all the sky, and saw the trees bend, and felt the earth 
shaken by the tempest. Then the beautiful thought broke 
upon her affrighted senses, that on the morrow the sun 
would rise again in beauty and brightness, and the world 
would know nothing of the storm that had swept over it. 
And so she thought of the sunlight of eternity after the 
storms and death of the present life. All would be beauti- 
ful again, and calm and peaceful. 

The sun has now risen above the storm that had passed 
over the lives as depicted in our story, and henceforth its 
bright face only will appear. 



CHAPTER XY. 


Lakeside. 

I T was the middle of July. In the evenings of this season, 
with the sun’s approach to the horizon, delicious breezes 
usually came in cooling puffs from out the west, that were 
like kisses upon the face from the vault overhead. The skies 
of evening were blue and light, softening into golden splen- 
dors that lingered long after the sun’s face had melted into 
the horizon. At such an hour Janie and Stella loved to 
wander together along the gentle slope of the hill, and dwell 
upon the beauties of the splendid spectacle. When flocks of 
clouds would add their beauty, and hang suspended in fleecy 
lightness upon the motionless air, the sumptuous colors of 
the setting sun would play about their soft undulations in 
weird magnificence. Then Janie’s heart would beat in 
quickened throbs with the shifting beauties lingering beforo 
her eyes on fields and forests, hills and sky. Her thoughts 
were like glittering threads binding her to nature’s amazing 
wonders, and then intertwining with the beautiful assurances 
that the consummate skill of Divine purity and wisdom 
alone could paint the matchless pictures. 


171 


172 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


Janie loved this walk for the beauties which so deeply 
affected her sensitive nature, and for her unaccountable emo- 
tions, which seemed like flashes from the heavens and the 
blended scenes about her. Stella’s receptive heart, softened 
by the refinements of Janie’s tender influence, seemed to 
catch the loveliness of nature, too, in something of her en- 
raptured spirit, and a kindred pleasure bound them together 
in indissoluble ties. It was a quiet, undisturbed, peaceful 
happiness of the heart. They were aimlessly wandering 
along the highway now, absorbed by little snatches of talk 
that were ever interrupted by the more absorbing beauties 
around them. It was a peaceful, uncomplaining association 
that could know no bitterness as twice before. 

Stella wore the deejfly somber habiliments of mourning, 
and the blackness of the attire deepened the soberness of 
her face that was outlined in sorrow. Janie’s pure white 
summer costume — her golden hair crowning her shapely 
head and lighting up her perfectly clear complexion — was 
in striking contrast. The play of emotions upon her re- 
fined features suggested to Stella’s mind the beautiful sun- 
light among the fields of yellow grain and the daucing leaves 
swayed by gentle winds. 

Stella was wearied by their walk, and now halted lan- 
guidly before a decaying log, lying by the roadside. 

“Let us rest here awhile,” she said to Janie. “I believe 
I am tired,” she added, with a light laugh. 

“You look so, dear,” Janie answered, with solicitude, 
and gently assisted her to a seat. 

“ I can’t account for my languid feelings,” Stella said, 
with a wearied expression. “ I am not at all like myself. 


LAKESIDE. 


J 73 


My old strength seems to have deserted me,” she continued, 
with a smile of resignation. 

Janie looked into Stella’s face compassionately, and then, 
taking her hand, began to stroke it. This act was a pecu- 
liarity of hers when moved by tender sympathy. It seemed 
that thus she could touch the sorrow of another, and dispel 
it as by a mesmeric effort. At all events, she could thus, 
she knew, give off something of her own will, and soothe by 
her own gentle tenderness. While she shrank, in her sensi- 
tive way from referring to the events that had wearied 
Stella’s spirits, and, through the spirits, her physical strength, 
she could not but gently speak of her cause of weakness. 
She had an object in view in doing so. 

“ It could not be otherwise, Stella,” she said. “ Poor hu- 
man nature can bear a certain amount of strain only, and 
then it gives way. You need the tonic of a change, my 
dear, from the associations that have oppressed and weak- 
ened you;” and then looking earnestly into her friend’s in- 
terested face, still clinging to her hand, she added with de- 
cision : “ 1 am going to take you away from here for a 
while.” 

Stella returned the look with an appearance of perplex- 
ity. She was striving to understand Janie’s words. 

“Are you surprised at what I say?” asked Janie, inter- 
rupting her studied thoughts. 

“ Yes,” she answered ; “ and yet I ought not to be sur- 
prised at anything you do. You are so full of resources and 
good intentions. Would that I could look down into your 
tender heart to see what it is made of!” she exclaimed. 

Janie laughed and patted Stella’s cheek softly. “You 


174 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


would find nothing different there from your own, dear. You 
would do as much for me, I know, as I for you. The only 
difference is, I have the opportunity, and you have not ; and for 
that I am happy !” she said, as with a light bound of the heart. 

Stella felt the burden of her indebtedness and the weight 
of her desires responding as an echo from her grateful heart 
to Janie’s exultant remark. It was with an intently yearn- 
ing look that she replied : 

“ Would that I could prove how much I would do for 
you! My heart aches for the opportunity!” she said ear- 
nestly. “I would gladly give my life as a sacrifice for your 
generous devotion ; for you have taught me how to live, and 
what to live for.” 

For a moment Janie was overcome by the unexpected 
fervency of Stella’s words. The sincerity of her look sank 
into her heart, and played with the cords of love that now 
bound them together, and seemed to tighten the strand still 
more tensely. Then she answered : 

“ I could not afford to share the pleasure of loving and 
doing for you, Stella. The joy of it is as unstinted as the 
winds of heaven among the verdure of the trees; and is not 
more restrained than the generous sunlight that thrills with 
warmth whatever it touches. Do not look upon me as need- 
ing repayment in the sense of a debtor. My pleasure is in 
giving to others. An effort at compensation would rob 
my heart of its purest happiness.” 

Stella s earnest gaze rested upon Janie’s face as she spoke, 
and when her concluding words had ended as in a whisper, 
she exclaimed, with trembling earnestness: 

“But I can love you, Janie, with a love that knows no 


LAKESIDE. 


175 


limit. You know, you precious little thing, that it is all 
yours. It has no taint in it,” and then drew Janie close to 
her side, and seemed to cling to her. 

“ I know it all, Stella,” Janie answered, with a light, rip- 
pling laugh, “ and I am happy in its possession — inexpress- 
ibly happy.” Her gleaming smile outrivaled the beauties 
gathering on the western sky among the changing tints 
of color that the setting sun was scattering through the 
vault and over the earthly scenery spread out so reposeful ly 
before them. 

This quick outpouring of love, and these unchecked con- 
fessions, came to both without premeditated thought. A 
sudden impulse had burst the barriers that were like a 
pent-up stream restrained by a bank that had been grad- 
ually giving way for a length of time, and then suddenly 
yielding before the rush of the eager flood behind. It was 
the promise of Janie to take Stella away from her present 
burdensome surroundings that had opened up their'hearts to 
each other in such an emotional way. 

They talked on, and the play of nature grew in beauty 
before them; but it was unheeded. And yet the wide ex- 
panse of nature seemed strangely satisfying to them ; and 
they unconsciously felt the wondrous freedom of the great 
vault of heaven above them, filled by the spirit of loveliness 
which seemed to have settled upon their hearts. 

“Yes, yes, Stella; you must go away with me for awhile, 
where rest and a change can divert, and where memory can 
be stifled, and where grief and sorrow can not intrude. 
New scenes and thoughts must take the place of the old,” 
Janie pleaded, with earnest encouragement. 


176 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“Can such a place be found?” asked Stella, with a look 
of dumb questioning. 

“Do you remember the place where we were all to have 
summered two years ago?” 

“And which your mother’s sickness prevented?” 

“Yes; Lakeside,” Janie answered, with enthusiasm. 
“You know how much we then regretted the breaking of 
our plans, and how we hopefully encouraged ourselves at 
the time with the assurance that another season would do 
as well.” 

“ I remember,” Stella answered, wistfully ; “ but all hope 
of that was. resigned long ago. I did think then that the 
future might be thus happy; but not now,” she added, 
gloomily shaking her head. 

“Well, we will revive the hope now, and prove that the 
waiting has been good for all of us.” 

“ O, you are too encouraging, Janie,” answered Stella, 
eagerly. “ I own that the change would be a blessing with 
your presence to shelter me. Somehow, no place or pleasure 
would be satisfying without you,” she continued, with a 
trustful look into Janie’s happy face. “ I am entirely de- 
pendent on you, as if self-effacement had come to me in my 
helpless dependence,” she added, with deep feeling. 

Without noticing Stella’s sad complaint, Janie replied : 

“ It is just such a quiet, restful, sheltering place as will 
be best suited to both of us. My own heart yearns for the 
place strangely,” she said with a long, dreamy look out over 
the valley that was growing dim now in the shades of 
the lingering twilight. 

A brief silence rested then upon their heart-thoughts. 


LAKESIDE. 


177 


Evidently Stella’s languid feelings had been deeply stirred ; 
for in a few moments she turned her misty eyes, dim with 
tears, upon Janie, and said : 

“ This is sudden. Hope may cheer or disappoint. Others 
are to decide which it shall be. You have aroused an intense 
desire, Janie, that I long to realize. Help me, dear, if you 
can |” 

In that cry Janie realized that her plans would be 
reached ; that Stella’s apathy and dread of mingling with 
others would be overcome, and her heart responded to the 
happiness shining in her eyes. 

The quiet hush of the country air, that seems to grow 
into drowsiness with the deepening twilight, now settled 
upon the two with impressive effect. The beautiful colors of 
the departing sun were fast fading into the gray of the 
night. A solitary robin sat on the fence near by, whistling its 
few clear notes, as if with a parting blessing upon the outgo- 
ing day. Its lovely mate flew to the grass a few paces away, 
and turning its red breast towards them, looked for a mo- 
ment into their faces tamely, and then, in confident freedom, 
began its search for the evening meal. Pausing every mo- 
ment or two, after each few hurried steps, it would stand 
with head high to gaze at its guests. Janie was delighted 
with its untamed ways, and endearingly talked to it, as she 
did so often to her flowers. When, at last, it flew away to 
join, the flight of its mate, she arose and helped Stella 
to her feet ; and together they turned their faces homeward, 
still talking over the anticipated pleasures of the distant 
lake. 

At her evening meal, Janie unfolded her plans to her 
12 


178 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


father and mother. Their faces caught the pleasure that 
was reflected from her happy countenance, and made it 
brighter still by a hearty acquiescence in her desires. 

Upon Stella’s porch, soon after, the subject was renewed, 
and but little urging was necessary to win the hearts of Mr. 
and Mrs. Bradley to the project. Difficulties all vanished, as 
the mist before the sun, in Janie’s presence. All felt that, if 
Janie could do so much, they could do no less for the hapless 
and wounded heart. 

As the sun of this day had set in peaceful beauty upon 
the earth, so the day had closed in happy contentment to 
the hearts of the two friends. 

A few brief days of preparation brought them to the close 
of July; and on the evening of a lovely day they halted at 
the little plain depot, hid among the forest-trees that over- 
shadowed it just without the gateway opening into the great 
inclosure of Lakeside. They paused at the entrance for 
tickets of admission, and to their eyes a great native forest 
spread out before them, where, through the vista of trees, 
could be seen pretty cottages nestling here and there in the 
distant evening shade. 

They walked on interestedly, following the white path- 
way in its windings, until the clustering settlement of 
cottages was reached. Their diversity of forms, the free- 
dom of the people lingering about their little porches, the 
sociable character of intercourse, and the sylvan, homelike 
air of the place, diverted them as they slowly sauntered 
towards the lake. An impression of pleasing listlessness 
came to them in their passing review. And then, a little 
way beyond, the quiet, misty lake spread out before them 


LAKESIDE . 


179 


into the dim distance, where little row-boats seemed slowly 
creeping about over its glassy surface. They paused to 
catch the effect of the sleepy, placid water, that was in- 
stantly soothing to them in the dimness of the gathering 
night. 

Then, to the left, but a few paces away, stood the inviting 
hotel, already gleaming with lights, surrounded by forest- 
trees. They mounted the steps, and their eyes quickly 
caught the homelike freedom of the guests, chatting in 
groups about the open hall ; the other groups sitting on the 
wide veranda in happy intimacy; and others scattered about 
the open grounds leading to the lake, visible through the 
windows, — and they were impressed by the singular freedom 
and unrestraint, that was reassuring. The sound of music 
added to the charm, as it floated in softened harmony from 
the grove but a little way from the hotel. Their introduc- 
tion was a delightful one. They scarce could delay over 
their toilets or evening meal, in eagerness to explore the 
grounds and know more of the homelike charm of their 
surroundings. Though the darkness of night hid much 
from view, their eager fancy looked through the veil, and 
wove beautiful pictures, that lingered about their undisturbed 
dreams of sleep. 

The morning awaking was radiant with sunlight, that 
poured in an unstinted flood through the slats of their win- 
dow-shutters. It could not be kept out of their room or 
their hearts ; for neither was sealed against its penetrating 
and blithesome effects. They opened wide the shutters and 
admitted the full glare of its dazzling face, and caught with 
delight its silvery rays, dancing upon the wavelets of the 


180 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


lake. Out over the water it was lighting up the distant 
wooded islands with a lingering halo. 

The long line of black smoke, that streamed from the 
stack of an approaching steamer miles away, alone broke the 
gleaming brightness of the scene. Long did Stella and Janie 
linger in the open window, spellbound by nature’s awaking 
loveliness. Janie felt the impress deeply, and in speechless 
wonder caught one and another of the tender effects of the 
sun’s rays at play with sky and water, the islands and groves 
around. Neither Stella nor Janie could break the spell and 
the silence for a time. But where were sorrows now, and 
burdened thoughts, and torturing heartaches? All had mys- 
teriously vanished in the presence of this radiant play of 
sunlight upon nature’s face before them. In the silence and 
beauty of this early morn new hopes seemed to have arisen 
to their light hearts, awaking a thrill that, perhaps, was an 
antepast of the day’s brighter offerings yet to come. 






CHAPTER XYI 


A.n Eventful Day. 


ANIE and Stella were now drawn together in a closer 



vJ intimacy than ever before, and one became the shadow, 
as it were, of the other. This close companionship attracted 
attention early, and became to all a subject of remark and 
pleasing interest. It was soon apparent that one had been 
deeply smitten by sorrow, and that the other was an attend- 
ant spirit of consolation and sympathy. Their undemonstra- 
tive devotion to each other became lovely in the eyes of all, 
and drew to them a gentle, respectful solicitude that was 
touching to the hearts of both. A romance attached itself 
to them at first sight ; for the refinement of their gentle and 
loving ways was impressive. 

After the breakfast following this first beautiful morning, 
they were met in. the large hall, (is they stepped from the 
dining-room, by a pleasing face and an extended hand of 
welcome. The barrier of formality thus broken, the intro- 
duction passed round the group of ladies, who seemed 
unrestrainedly to accept them to their friendship and asso- 
ciation. 


181 


182 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


Then they began their explorations together. They 
wandered, with light and happy hearts, to the lake-front, to 
the little boat-house, out upon the dock, along the rock- 
fringed bluffs that were lifted but a little way above the 
murmuring water, among the overarching trees that shel- 
tered from the hot sun-rays. It seemed to them the sunniest, 
shadiest, sleepiest of places; and they lingered in a loitering, 
drowsy enjoyment. 

If the faintest thoughts of the past still remained in their 
minds, they had no tormenting power now. Mental pleas- 
ures at the Auditorium by day and social enjoyments at 
night conspired still more to weave the spell of oblivion 
about them. By the inclosing fences, the w r orld was shut 
out from its tumult and strife and trouble; and it was only 
the daily steamers touching at the dock, or the distant whis- 
tle and faint rumble of trains, that broke the dreamy and 
emotional state, and reminded them that they were not 
wholly removed from its contact. A settled quietude rested 
upon them from the face of beautiful nature, as well as from 
the peaceful serenity of their undisturbed thoughts. 

The days passed thus for a full week. They had slipped 
away so silently and peacefully that they had been unheeded. 
The gentle intimacy and unaffected friendship of their new- 
found acquaintances were so unobtrusive as to leave upon 
their minds but the impress of homelike unrestraint. Be- 
fore the week had passed, both had forgotten that tbte world 
of tumult still existed about them, or that sorrow or pain 
could torture anywhere. They were truly at rest now, and 
in beautiful harmony with lovely nature, that seemed to 
conspire to work out its most entrancing effects upon the 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


183 


morning and evening skies. Nearer and dearer grew the 
clinging love of Stella the while. No joy to her heart but 
with Janie’s participation ; and together they shared their 
close companionship with new-found friends. No happiness 
for one that the other did not know. 

On a Wednesday evening the hotel was deserted for a 
lovely concert at the Auditorium. The evening boat had 
been delayed, and its few passengers now aimlessly lingered 
about its deserted hall and porches with a sense of oppressive 
loneliness. But when the throng, like a tide, set toward the 
hotel at the conclusion of the concert, with its noise and 
laughter and bustle, the scene changed, and even the strang- 
ers partook of its gayety and brightness. Stella and Janie 
drifted homeward at last, and, with arms entwined about 
each other, entered the great hall with faces wreathed in 
smiles, chatting in happy lightness, as if the melody of the 
music still played about their hearts. Thus they approached 
the clerk’s desk, to inquire for the evening mail. A throng 
had gathered there, and they paused upon its outskirts, still 
talking about the music. 

But why the sudden pressure of Stella’s arm about 
Janie’s waist now ? and her arrested speech, and trembling 
hands, and shaken form, and blanched face, and staring 
eyes? Startled, Janie looked into Stella’s face, and the pres- 
ence of her sudden agitation affrighted her. 

“ What is it, Stella?” Janie breathlessly exclaimed, tak- 
ing a firm hold of her arm as if to support her. 

The sudden change in Stella had been unnoticed by the 
throng at the desk in their eager diversion ; and Stella did 
not reply to her affrighted exclamation. 


184 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


Again and again, in deepest solicitude, Janie asked her 
question. 

“Tell me! Tell me, Stella!” she pleaded, “what has 
affected you?” 

And then her eager questionings wore answered by an- 
other, who now stood before the two with uncovered head, 
and a look of unspeakable surprise and delight. It was only 
when Professor Wentworth had extended his hand that 
Janie recognized him. Then she too was agitated, but not 
as Stella. Ho self-reproaches had arisen suddenly, like hor- 
rible specters, before her gaze. It was the happy remem- 
brance of lovely flowers, and the music of the drawing- 
room, and his kindly look, that had again lit up his rugged 
face, beautiful with the interest and smiles of then, to greet 
her anew. The past swept over her, in an instant, as she felt 
the eager and firm pressure of his hand in its greeting ; and 
its warmth effaced, in the moment, the memory of his re- 
laxed grip at their final separation months ago. Then she 
seemed to hear with a muffled sound his words of greeting. 

Stella had separated from her, and now stood aside in a 
shrinking way, with scarlet face, in an agony of self-con- 
demnation. The flood of thoughts and the quick scene were 
like a flash before Janie’s awakened senses, and remained 
unnoticed to the chatting friends still absorbed in light 
pleasantry about the desk. Janie, in pain, looked upon the 
shrinking form, and pitied Stella and welcomed Mr. Went- 
worth in the instant with one thought. 

“ Of all my pleasure, since leaving my country months 
ago, this is the greatest; for it is the most unexpected,” Pro- 
fessor Wentworth said, before relinquishing Janie’s hand. 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


185 


It was her bright and happy look that gave back the 
pleasant assurance to his heart that the meeting was a happy 
one to her; for as yet she had not spoken. She was con- 
tending with tender sympathy for Stella as the music of his 
words fell upon her hearing. Then she saw Stella move as 
if to leave them, and this aroused her as nothing before had 
done. 

“Stella!” she quickly called. 

Stella hesitated at the call, and turned her sad face upon 
Janie in mute appeal. 

“Stella!” she called again, with a voice of distress. 

The call could not be resisted. She turned back to the 
two, with a look of suffering. 

“You must recognize my friend, Mrs. Ludlow,” Janie said, 
with a tremor of the voice that caught the professor’s ears. 

These were her first words of greeting. They fell upon 
Stella’s heart with sounds sweeter than the music that had 
entranced the senses in the past hour. In the same instant 
the professor recalled the face, and the bitter words that had 
given him pain among the dreary wastes of Siberia ; and he 
stood mutely, a startled witness of the forgiving spirit of 
the little friend of that day, whose suffering image he had 
carried with him in his heart — first, to reproach his suspi- 
cions, and then to brighten his dreary solitude. Her atti- 
tude and manner banished, in the same instant, whatever of 
reproach had comeback with the recognition. He extended 
his hand to Stella, and greeted her with the same freedom 
that he had shown to Janie; and the same smile of pleasure 
seemed to play upon his face the while. 

“I can not express my pleasure in meeting you both 


186 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


again,” he said to Stella. “ The meeting is of that unex- 
pected character that bewilders.” 

Stella was more at ease in the kind words which seemed 
to be for both alike; and her winning smiles began to play 
about her face again ; and her arm stole, as before, about 
Janie’s waist, hut in a more clinging way than ever. In the 
moment she felt that the loyalty of Janie’s affection had 
been tested to its utmost strain, as her cruel treachery was 
recalled to life by the presence of this noble man, whose 
suspicions she once had aroused. Not a trace of reproach 
could she detect in Janie’s manner, in her quick and pene- 
trating gaze. Instead, before even a word had been spoken 
to the friend, the effort was made to banish the presence of 
sorrow from offended and offender alike. It was a wondrous 
self-forgetfulness she saw. 

A good impulse swept over Stella in a moment, as from 
an inspiration, and with a brighter look than Janie had ever 
remembered, she said : 

“ 1 am happier than Janie can be in our unexpected meet- 
ing. It rounds out the day that has been so pleasant to both 
of us. Neither of us could have thought more could possibly 
be added to its joy, until this moment.” 

She spoke so freely — even eagerly — and with such an 
undisguised excitement, that both Janie and the professor 
looked at her with surprise. 

He pleasantly answered that it was the crowning joy, 
too, of his happy day. 

And Janie silently wondered, as he spoke, if Stella’s 
manner indicated a sudden arousing of her old, unrestrained, 
and impulsive self. 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


187 


But she was unhappy in the thought, and lightly dis- 
pelled it with a rippling laugh, as she answered : 

“You can not know, Professor Wentworth, the full force 
of Stella’s words ; for the reason that you can not understand 
how truly perfect has been our pleasure to-day. Not a mo- 
ment, from sunrise to sunset, but has been a delight.” 

He looked down into Janie’s speaking eyes, and lingered 
upon the play of her features, as under the influence of a 
fascination. Janie recognized the same expression of coun- 
tenance that had pleased her so much as they had talked to- 
gether on the evening preceding the sleigh-ride. The pure 
pleasures of that night surged over her heart — thoughts be- 
fore she had completed her concluding sentence. 

And then the crowd around them began to give way, and 
one and another were drawn to the grand presence of the 
gentleman so earnestly absorbed in his attentions to the two ; 
and after a little the three stood alone, forgetful of the in- 
terested groups who had now made them objects of dis- 
cussion. 

Stella was bewildered at the cordial freedom and gentle 
refinement of the man as she stood before him and studied 
his face in these few moments of greeting ; for gentleness and 
exquisite refinement seemed to illumine his rugged features. 
With what other impulses she looked upon him now than 
when last she had spoken to him at her home, moved by hate 
and a revengeful spirit. She felt a* happy exultation in the 
assurance that she did not now think as then. Instead, she 
was almost convulsed by an eager desire that seemed to thrill 
her being with strong resolutions. The sentiment seemed to 
lift her up and transform her to intense eagerness for the 


188 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


attainment of an object — an object outweighing all love for 
her own life. These were quick thoughts that had come un- 
bidden, and she knew not from whence; but they gave her 
unspeakable happiness. 

The groups about them divined, from the manner of the 
two friends, that Stella was the one in whom the gentleman 
was most interested ; for her eager impulses were in striking 
contrast to the quiet and gentle undemonstrativeness of tho 
other. 

At length Janie seemed to awake to the fact that she had 
not inquired about himself. She had listened, forgetful of all 
else about her, to his expressions of pleasure in tho meeting ; 
of his assurances of her unchanged appearance in his ab- 
sence ; of his remembrance of her little musical surprise upon 
the last evening he had spent among his friends — the effect 
of which he had carried away with him among the solitudes 
of his wanderings. He talked on eagerly as if telling the 
story to Stella, watching, the while, the changing color that 
played upon Janie’s face under the touch of her emotions. 

Then she laughingly interrupted the progress of the 
story, dreading that he might unguardedly refer to 'the sleigh- 
ride, that seemed to her but a link in the events he was re- 
calling now. She said with exquisite grace : 

“ But, in thinking of us, you forget, Professor Wentworth, 
to tell us how you have happened, in your flight, to alight 
in this secluded spot. We are more interested in your ad- 
venturous movements than in our own uneventful acts. 
•You have not said, as yet, one word about yourself;” and 
she paused in an attentive, expectant attitude for the inter- 
esting narrative. 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


189 


“Well,” he answered, in a half-tantalizing way, “my 
interest in myself to-night is entirely overshadowed by the 
greater interest in yourselves. I have something more 
* pleasing to think about than self. Yours happen to be the 
first faces to greet me from my home in the past lingering 
months. Home seems reflected from your faces, and thoughts 
of that place linger about your pleasant smiles,” he said, with 
an earnestness of manner, that seemed in the instant to efface 
the pleasing banter with which he had begun his answer. 

“Still,” Janie replied, in the same graceful way, “we are, 
indeed, deeply interested in the circumstances that have 
impelled your flight to this spot.” 

“ You shall know,” he said; “my work called me to San- 
dusky for a day. That completed, I thought to take refuge 
from the world, and came here for the rest I have been long- 
ing for since landing on our shores again. I desired to rest 
before beginning the most difficult part of my task, that of 
writing up its detailed report for publication. It has been 
some good angel hand that has drawn me here,” he added, 
with a look that reminded Janie of his simple faith that had 
touched her heart once before. Then he said : 

“Would you not like to go out into the cool air? We 
can talk with more freedom than beneath the lamplights.” 

A great cloud mass, that seemed to tower into the 
heavens, rested, solitary and alone, in the northern sky; 
and across its beautiful face, that shone bright in the moon- 
light, shot back and forth swift-flying streaks of lightning, 

as if chasing each other in play. Occasionally, a streak in 
its quick flight would leap out into the clear sky beyond the 
cloud mass. It was a lovely sight, that caught the instant 


190 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


gaze of the group as they stepped out upon the porch. For 
the moment they were lost to all other thoughts in the pres- 
ence of this beautiful display. They carried chairs to the 
edge of the little bluff overlooking the silvery water, glint- 
ing in the soft moonlight, where an unobstructed view 
could be had of the lovely spectacle. And here they lin- 
gered long over the beauties of the night, and over the 
story told by the professor. 

Much of the strange story of lonely wanderings was re- 
viewed before they separated for the night. Just as they 
would have said good-night, Stella asked Mr. Wentworth if 
he would remain for a length of time. 

“ O no,” he replied; “ my time is limited by the force of 
much work driving me on. Early on Monday morning I 
must go to Chicago, and from there to Denver, and from 
thence — I know not where. Orders will reach me at Denver, 
directing my future movements;” and then added, soberly, 
“I deeply regret that I can not linger here awhile, at least.” 

A shade of anxiety seemed to pass over Stella’s face .at 
the announcement. She seemed sobered by it, and spoke 
something of her feeling, when she replied : 

“I had hoped your stay would be longer, Professor 
Wentwoi'th.” 

Her disappointment was so undisguised that Janie 
thought strangely of it; and still more strangely as the two 
climbed the stairs together on their way to retirement. 
Stella was violently weeping before the door of their room 
was reached. Nothing that Janie could do would stop her 
sobs. She had the appearance of one agonized to the point 
of nervous prostration where hysteria begins. She had 


AN EVENTFUL DAY. 


191 


thrown herself upon the bed, on entering the room, and 
buried her face in the pillow. Sounds were thus stifled ; but 
the convulsive movements of the body went on in a more af- 
fecting way; nor could Janie seek help, for Stella frantically 
resisted it. The storm raged until its fury was spent ; the 
while Janie hung over the afflicted one, and begged and 
piteously pleaded with her, and strove to take her to her 
arms, and shed tears, and by all the touching blandishments 
of her sensitive and tenderly sympathetic nature tried to 
win her from her sorrow. 

Silence had come to the deserted halls of the hotel, in 
the hour of midnight, before Stella grew calm again. Then 
she could not name the burden that had convulsed her. In- 
stead, as Janie still tenderly ministered to her troubed spirit, 
she would throw her arms about her neck and cling to her, 
and imprint passionate kisses upon her face and forehead. 

“ No, no ! Janie, I can not tell my trouble ! Its charac- 
ter is not such that I can name it. I have no secrets from 
you, dear; but this is something I alone can know. It can 
not be divided. All my life happiness hangs upon the future 
now,” she cried, with a pathetic earnestness that was pain- 
fully depicted upon her unhappy face. 

Janie sorrowfully abandoned the subject, grieving that 
she could not share it with Stella. “All her past sorrows she 
had softened; why not this?” she thought. But she was 
measurably consoled in seeing Stella silently kneeling at her 
bedside now in prayer. “ If she will carry her burden to 
Him, she needs not my help,” she continued to think, as 
she sank upon her own knees in the silent midnight hour 
to plead for her friend. 



CHAPTER XYII. 

Doubts Removed. 

T HE sun did not burst upon the world with more splen- 
dor, or scatter its beauties more prodigally, or linger 
about the water and misty islands more dreamily, upon that 
radiant morning of their first awaking at Lakeside, than 
upon this one of the following day; but it did not arouse 
the ecstasy of glad surprise in the hearts of the two wearied 
ones now as upon that morning. Their eyes gazed from 
their open windows upon the scattered beauties around, but 
were strangely blurred to the effects that then had thrilled 
with exalted emotions. Both felt the strangeness of their 
blunted, irresponsive sensibilities now; and, as they pro- 
ceeded listlessly in their toilets, both recognized the pres- 
ence of an oppressive weight upon their hitherto undisturbed 
feelings. They were tired from the mental and physical 
strain that had banished sleep from the night, and oppressed 
with undefined sorrows. 

Their preparation for the breakfast was, for the most 

part, in silence. A nervous excitement was apparent in 

192 


DOUBTS REMOVED . 


193 


every act of Stella ; for her few words were spoken halt- 
ingly, her hands were unsteady, and her look had a restless, 
wandering way that impressed Janie strangely. The same 
dreamy restlessness followed her to the breakfast hall, and 
*was noticed by the family group at the table. Her eyes 
seemed to wander about the tables as if in an anxious search, 
followed by Janie’s pursuing look under a keen sense of 
aroused suspicion. Janie began to grow unhappy over the 
thoughts that now contended with her love for Stella. The 
secret of the night grew into a settled dread that some plot, 
mysteriously connected with the past, had shaped itself in 
Stella’s mind; and before the breakfast was ended Janie be- 
came, for the first time since entering the quiet precincts of 
the grove, really unhappy. They arose together from the 
table, and passed out of the room side by side to the great 
hall, where Janie, in a subdued voice, said to Stella: 

“ We have not yet completed our plans for the day. 
Have you thought over in your mind, Stella, what we shall 
do? Whether to attend the auditorium, or visit the islands, 
or go to Sandy Beach?” and stood before her in startled sur- 
prise that she should long hesitate in answering, and that 
such an unaccountable embarrassment should so plainly 
appear in her manner. 

At last Stella, lalteringly and chokingly, said : 

“I — I — don’t know, Janie, dear. I don’t think lean 
make any plans for to-day. I think I am not in condition 
to do anything.” 

And then she took Janie’s hand, and led her passively out 
on to the porch, and down the broad steps, and along the 
walk to the front of the lake. They did not speak during 

13 


194 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


this procedure; and Janie suffered herself to be led as if 
destitute of resistance. Here they sat down on one of the 
long benches beneath an overspreading tree. 

Then turning to Janie again, with misty eyes and anxious 
face, she said : 

“ Forgive me, Janie !” and paused as if in a struggle with 
herself. “ You see, dear, I am not like myself this morn- 
ing,” she added, in broken words. “ I — I want to be alone, 
to-day, dear,” she continued, now weeping and clinging to 
Janie as if she had, in the statement, repelled her dear friend 
and cast her off. 

Janie could have borne anything from others, but this 
sudden change in Stella, and her rejection of her compan- 
ionship, came too heavily. She sat looking into Stella’s 
face with a dazed expression, swayed by the torturings of 
the singular estrangement that had so suddenly separated 
them. Yet she could not deny her friend. She thought 
that, perhaps, the secret ot the night and the silent prayer 
had inspired the wish ; and, moved by her tender, forgiving 
impulse, she answered: 

“If you desire to be alone, Stella, I will not intrude,” 
and with a kindly look and a tone of suffering. 

“O, you are so kind, Janie, in yielding now, and without 
questioning! I will not forget it. It is only for a little 
while that I want to be alone — only a little while,” she re- 
peated. “And then we will be dearer than ever to each other,” 
she said with strange eagerness, clinging to Janie’s waist in 
her ardor of feeling until she almost hurt her. She looked 
into Janie’s sad eyes through her own tear-stained ones, lin- 
geringly; and then exclaimed passionately: “You don’t 


DOUBTS REMOVED. 


195 


mistrust me, dear, do you, Janie? O that would kill me! 
Do n’t, do n’t do that, I pray you ! After a little you shall 
know all. I would not hurt the precious life that I cling to 
more than my own ; I would die for you !’” she exclaimed, and 
tore herself abruptly away from Janie, and hurried to the 
refuge of her room. 

Janie was overcome by Stella’s inexplicable words and 
manner, beyond anything that had hitherto crossed their 
eventful lives. She sat motionless, her eyes fixed upon the rest- 
less wavelets that were constantly beating. against the rocks 
at her feet, and her measured heart-throbs were painful. 
Then she was recalled to herself suddenly by the delicate 
greeting of Professor Wentworth. 

Her saddened face was turned upon him in the moment, 
under its burden of trouble, and then broke into lovely 
smiles before his gaze, that transformed her beautiful features 
as the gray morning mist when suddenly riven by the glow- 
ing sunlight. He stood before her in the moment, with 
thoughts bent upon her grace and sweetness. 

“Forgive me,” he said. “You recall to my mind, this 
morning, the endearing pet-name of your friends. Do you 
remember it? You know we once before alluded to it. Its 
application is so suggestive now that I can not help recalling 
it. You are not offended by the reference, I trust;” and he 
studied intently her features and the play of emotions upon 
her face as he tarried for a reply 

“ I can not be offended,” she answered ; “for I am not re- 
sponsible for what my friends say of me.” 

“ Their delicate selection of a beautiful pet-name is, how- 
ever, expressive, and, as I see you now, full of meaning.” 


196 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“I fear you flatter me,” Janie said, with a shadow of dis- 
tress sweeping across her face. 

“I did not recall the remembrance of our little talk at 
our last meeting in that spirit, but in the pleasing recollec- 
tion that it had helped to cheer many a lonely night-hour 
when not a soul was within reach to whom I could speak 
my thoughts. Then I lived within myself, and feasted upon 
the sumptuous repasts that memory spread before me in its 
silent way. The most delicate of such pleasures was the 
thought of the child of nature in a distant land, who was so 
unconscious of herself. This is not flattery, indeed, Miss 
Allen,” he said, in answer to her look of distress. 

He saw her look of distress vanish then, and her winning 
smiles return instead. 

“I am glad,” she gently replied, “that anything attach- 
ing to me could have cheered a single moment of your lone- 
liness.” 

“If I do not say too much — that night and the following 
day did much to solace many of the lonely hours of that 
long journey.” A 

Then Janie recalled the last episode of that day, and 
wondered in her heart how much it had done to add a 
shadow to his loneliness as well. “Certainly it could not 
have been pleasant,” she thought, as a cloud of sorrow 
again crossed her face. 

It caught his eye, and he impulsively said : 

“ Your look does not seem to respond to my confessions. 
Your face now wears the same expression that I noticed 
when I first spoke to you a few moments ago. I think I 
would rather see the sunlight of smiles play about it.” 


DOUBTS REMOVED . 


197 


This he said as under embarrassment. He realized that 
he had no right to express a desire touching her moods. Her 
speaking face reflected so quickly every shade of emotion 
that he was deeply impressed with the delicacy of her sensi- 
tive organization. He was quick to catch the fleeting beau- 
ties lingering upon nature’s face, in its ever-shifting lights 
and shades, and his heart seemed always responding to its 
changes. He realized that Janie’s face, as well, could no 
more disguise the effects of her heart-thoughts than the hill- 
side meadows the chasing shadows at play with drifting 
clouds sweeping across the sun’s face. His soul was culti- 
vated to the beautiful in nature, and as its most exalted 
loveliness was typified in Janie’s face he followed the sudden 
impulse of his heart in saying that he would rather see the 
sunlight there. 

She smiled at his words, when he had feared a frown ; 
and she said with thoughtless frankness: 

“I have just a little touch of heartache this morning. 
Perhaps my face bears its shadow. I am sorry.” 

Her words seemed to sober him in the moment, and the 
presence of Stella obtruded upon his mind; for he had seen 
her leave Janie’s side in agitation. He was not so much of a 
courtier, having spent most of his life with nature, where no 
disguises are nurtured, as now to hide his feelings; and so 
he answered freely, without weighing words: 

“Your friend must have caused that.” 

Janie started as if affrighted, and made a meaningless 
reply. She was embarrassed. 

“ She has a beautiful face,” he said, as if his mind were 
now entirely absorbed in thought of her. 


198 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“ Yes, very beautiful.” 

“ She is cultivated, is she not?” he asked, with interest. 

“ Nothing has been spared upon her education.” 

“And she is refined, as well ?” he continued, questioningly, 
like a man working out a problem in his mind. 

For answer, Janie said, with a worried look : 

“She is impulsive at times.” 

Still he sat as if working busily at his problem. 

“ You and she are great friends, are you not?” 

“Yes, almost inseparable,” she replied, wondering what 
' such questions could mean. 

“And yet, I take it, you are not alike in any particular.” 

“Still, our differences in character do not intrude up>on 
our perfect confidence and warm friendship.” 

“Friendship,” he repeated, in an undertone; and then, 
after an embarrassing interval, “ you accept friendship freely, 
I think, Miss Allen.” 

“ Why, of course, certainly, my greatest pleasure in life 
is to feel friendly to others.” 

“Yours is an unsuspecting nature. I am sure that the 
sentiment you express is felt deeply by you toward others. 
Are you equally sure of the disinterested friendship of others 
in return?” he asked, with an earnest expression of counte- 
nance and a steady gaze into her innocent face. 

“O! if I doubted, I would suffer!” Janie answered, 
eagerly. “ There is so much pleasure in my love for others 
that I can not mistrust a reciprocal feeling.” 

“ I would not shake your faith, Miss Allen. Such a life is 
not only beautiful in itself, but beautifies other lives as well. 
It is the Christian spirit that has raised the standard of 


DOUBTS REMOVED. 


199 


the Cross, and spread round the world the benediction of 
Him who hallowed it with his dying agonies,” ho replied 
gently. 

He was rewarded by a beautiful smile. Then he said : 

“ We have drifted just a little from the friend of whom we 
were talking. I am deeply interested in her. I think I would 
like to knew more of her.” 

“ She is worthy of your interest,” Janie answered, un- 
hesitatingly loyal to her love for Stella. 

“ Yes, true !” he said uneasily. “ I mean I am interested 
in her as a matter of fact, not from sentiment, Miss Allen. 
Please don’t misunderstand my meaning,” he added, sensibly 
embarrassed. 

“O!” Janie exclaimed. “But in any sense she is inter- 
esting,” she said, from the impulse of her unselfish spirit. 

Professor Wentworth was struggling all this time with a 
thought that he did not know how to express without betray- 
ing suspicions and dislikes that might sorely wound the sen- 
sitive heart of his little friend if uttered. He dreaded to 
awaken in her feelings that might lead to unhappiness; and 
yet he lingeringly desired to clear from his own mind glaring 
inconsistencies that made him uneasy. He longed to warn 
his friend against treachery, which he had once seen dimly, 
and which he feared had been unnoticed by the unsuspecting 
heart of innocence before him. He seemed to feel a sense of 
duty driving him on in the presence of Janie’s undoubted 
faith in her companion ; but how to do so delicately was 
the problem that had engaged him in a fierce mental 
struggle. 

“ I wish 1 could forget a part of the last day I spent at 


200 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


home eight months ago,” he said, meditatively. “ It has 
lingered with me like a black spot on the sun’s face. It is 
said that sunspots are the cause of electrical and atmospheric 
disturbances on our little earth. I am sure that the spot on 
that day’s brightness caused storms to rage in my heart;” 
and he studied with intense gaze the mobile features before 
him for the effect of the allusion. 

What he had said was but a hint. Had she grasped its 
meaning? Yes, he was certain in the very moment; for 
hot flushes surged over her face, and set her lip a- quivering. 
Her eyes sought his in a pitifully beseeching way. Then 
she said : 

“The beautiful poet has said, like a voice from the other 
world, 1 Let the dead past bury its dead 1’ Do n’t let us now 
recall the past, especially when it would be unjust to one who 
has suffered deeply, and who has long since been forgiven.” 

Professor Wentworth sat in speechless amazement for a 
time in the presence of the tender, forgiving spirit before 
him. “Strange,” he thought, “that those cruel words could 
be forgiven at all.” And yet the appealing look and gentle 
plea were assuring. He was of a Christian spirit, but not so 
near the Master’s forgiving heart, he realized, as she. He 
seemed gross to himself in the momentary comparison. He 
bad never forgiven the words for the revolting impression 
they had then made in his parting thoughts from her. In 
the lonely hours of his enforced solitude he had justified the 
pure heart of Janie, believing that one so pure and innocent 
could not be a deceiving flirt ; and his self-reproaches for even 
the entertainment of such unjust doubts for a moment, had 
made him, many times, unspeakably unhappy. Under the 


DOUBTS REMOVED. 


201 


smart of his condemnation of the guilty one he had shaped 
her into a repulsive character, while thus in the long inter- 
val associating them together. lie was unspeakably sur- 
prised at the unexpected and intently loving companionship 
of the two now. He could not doubt that, more than the 
pure heart before him. Ho broke the silence at last, and 
said, with deep feeling : 

“ Your forgiving spirit is a new revelation to me. I confess 
that 1 have carried in my secret heart an oppressive weight 
of dislike and mistrust for your friend, Miss Allen. Would 
you have me now banish these impressions, and bid me think 
of her as I think of you? Would you have me believe that 
she is a pure companion, that would not again prove treach- 
erous on occasion? Would that I could think of her with- 
out suspicion ! Would that — ” 

But Janie could hear no more. She was suffering pain 
from the cruel words that were so unjust to her dear friend, 
who had more than atoned, by sad suffering, for all she had 
done under extenuating circumstances. She had not herself 
long reproached the penitent one; but in the fullness of her 
heart had forgiven ail, and now pitifully clung to her as for 
very life itself. Why should he reproach or remain unfor- 
giving? Her face, that she now turned towards him, was 
strikingly unhappy. She answered, with trembling words: 

“Don’t! O, don’t be unjust to my friend, Mr. Went- 
worth ! She does not deserve your unkind thoughts or cruel 
words. Believe me, that though she may have acted hastily 
and spoken impulsively, she is deserving of only pity now 
and unshaken confidence. Anything less is undeserving 
and cruel. She has suffered 1” Janie said, with suppressed 


202 


A CEILD OF NATURE . 


emotions, and quivering lips, and tearful eyes, and an in- 
tently pleading look that set the sterner heart of the man in 
a tremor of pitying sympathy. 

“ O, I am cruel, and unjust, and brutal,” he quickly an- 
swered, “to cause you pain. I did not intend to do that. 
It was the pent-up and long-suppressed indignation over 
what had appeared to me heartless injustice, that I had so 
long nursed in silence, that caused me to speak as 1 did. 
Forgive me! You will forgive, I know, when I say that I 
felt myself more injured and imposed upon than yourself. 
It was a cruel blow to my feelings — to the sentiment that 
had found a strange awaking that day. But if you forgive 
her, I can not be less generous. Now that the burden of my 
heart is removed by the telling of my trouble, I will banish 
it forever, and will never again recall its hateful presence. 
Your pure heart has taught me how to forgive.” 

“ You are so good!” Janie almost cried, in the delight of 
her pleased heart. “I will tell you of her sufferings, and of 
the cruel temptations that, like a serpent’s coil, were wound 
about her resistlessly, and by which she was made a sad vic- 
tim of other’s wickedness. This part of her life-history you 
do not know. You will pity her as it is unfolded, and for- 
give her, as you can not now do in ignorance of her suffer- 
ing. She will appear before you in her true light then,” 
Janie added with intense eagerness, in her desire to justify 
her friend and blot out all reproaches against her. 

She went over the past delicately, lovingly, gently cover- 
ing all defects of character, and excusing her moral weak- 
ness. She had not gone far in the story before the professor 
realized that every word was for the utter effacement of re- 


DOUBTS REMOVED. 


203 


proach, and a perfectly unselfish desire to reinstate her in 
his good opinion. She was wholly forgetful of self, or of the 
impression she would make in her loving defense. It was 
told at last ; and with much feeling was portrayed the pros- 
trate and disheartened wreck she had been left. She would 
have disguised the part she had played in hor efforts to re- 
claim, and the steps by which she had brought her back to 
the pitying friendship of old associates again. But his keen 
insight and knowledge of human nature looked through the 
story, beautiful as it was in its unselfish and loving character, 
and saw the guiding hand that had rescued, and the forgiv- 
ing heart that had whitened the stains. He had no reason 
now to think of the past. lie would forgive, and not the 
faintest trace of her act of treachery should linger as a 
shadow in his mind. All would be blotted out for the sake 
of the eloquent advocate who had pleaded so sweetly and gen- 
erously. She sat before him, at the end of the story, almost 
panting from the eager intensity of her effort, awaiting his 
words of reconciliation. Then he said : 

“ Your plea is a beautiful one ; your motives are pure as 
ever were the martyrs’, agonizing in their soul-sustaining 
convictions. You drive away every misty doubt, as the 
sun’s hot rays burn out the noxious vapors of quagmires. 
Ho lurking suspicions can live in the presence of your un- 
defilcd nobility of character,” he answered, as if the prob- 
lem with which he had been wrestling was now clearly 
solved, and with perfect satisfaction to himself. “ You are a 
noble defender,” he added. “ She ought to be devoted as no 
friend has ever been before.” 

Janie had passed through a great nervous strain in this 


204 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


long talk with Professor Wentworth. He saw that she was 
mentally wearied, and suggested a walk through the grove 
as a relief and antidote against her tense feelings. 

Stella, in the meanwhile, was a concealed witness from 
the upper porch, to the long and earnest interview. She 
divined that she alone could be the cause of such an anxious 
display of feeling on Janie’s part. She did not doubt but her 
love would be as true now as it had been in the past of her 
troubles. She grew still more anxious and restless in her 
yearning desires. She had a task before her that thrilled her 
being with intense desire and eagerness of purpose. As she 
saw the two walk away and lose themselves in the grove, 
she paced the lone porch back and forth with the restless 
tread of a newly-caged denizen of the forest, chafing under 
the restraints of its iron-bound cage. 




CHAPTER XYIII. 

Stella’s Struggle. 

J ANIE and Professor Wentworth returned at the dinner 
hour, and entered the dining-room together. Stella was 
not there, as Janie had expected. She was distressed that 
she was not at her side, as always before. She could not eat, 
and, excusing herself, went out in search of her. None 
could give an acount of her. The meal was a tasteless one 
on her return, and was quickly eaten. Then she resumed 
the search, but finally in discouragement desisted, and went 
to her room. Wearied in spirit, and heavy-eyed from the 
vigils of the night, she laid herself on the bed, and was soon 
lost in the soothing oblivion of sleep. 

Professor Wentworth, after the meal, sought a solitary 
seat beneath a group of trees off to the left of the grounds, 
and directly above the water that here ever restlessly 
swashed among the broken rocks, that were indiscriminately 
piled one upon another out into the water, as they had fallen 
from their native beds under the corroding effects of the 

storm-tossed waves. It was an attractive spot, and was 

205 


206 


A CHILD OF NA TORE. 


sheltered somewhat from intrusion. The outlook from it 
was beautiful. The sky and water seemed like a broad 
sheet of neutral tint under the sun’s full glare, blending 
into the spectral distance of a misty horizon. He sat look- 
ing upon the beautiful vision, so softly spread out before 
him, lost in impressive abstraction. 

Hasty footsteps aroused him, suddenly, by their abrupt 
approach. His quick gaze was startled by the blanched and 
rigid face of Stella, as she stood before him in the instant 
struggling to speak. He mechanically arose, and, removing 
his hat,, addressed her kindly, and offered her a seat. But, 
in her agitation, she then neither spoke nor moved from her 
rigid position. Some deep emotion was torturing her heart 
in his presence, it was evident. The lingering plea of the 
gentle friend of the morning now came back to him ; and, as 
his mind associated the two in the moment, he was moved 
by pity for her sorrows. Gently he touched her hand as if 
to arouse, and besought her to be seated. She sat down 
with folded hands buried in her dress before her, and in a 
husky voice, said : 

“I have come to you, Mr. Wentworth, to undo a great 
wrong, and confess to an injustice, of which I was once 
guilty, against one of the best and purest spirits of earth. 
To right that wrong I would hesitate at no humiliation. 
An imp of perdition would not more wantonly and treach- 
erously *liave blasted a suffering soul than I once strove to do. 
And yet she has forgiven me, and in her tears of pity has 
washed away every remembrance of evil that I would have 
done her. Her heart-throbs of sympathy have beaten 
against my wicked heart-beats, as she has taken me to her- 


STELLA’S STRUGGLE. 


207 


self in tender love. Nothing less than an angel’s spirit has 
sheltered me from degradation and destruction.” 

She ceased to speak then, and, with trembling lips, clung 
in a silent gaze upon his face. The confession was made so 
impressively and suddenly that he had not sufficient com- 
posure to reply intelligently. To gain a moment’s time, in 
which to pacify her, he said, in deepest thoughtfulness : 

“ I am bewildered, Mrs. Ludlow.” 

“Are you not conscious, Professor Wentworth, of the 
meaning of my words?” she asked, in distress, as the sudden 
thought flashed upon her mind that she was incoherent. 

“Yes; I know your meaning.” 

“ Then you hate me too much to reply. I could not ex- 
pect you to forgive me. I am unworthy of it. It is for her 
sake that I plead — not my own. My cruel words were unjust 
to her. They were spoken in hateful jealousy and cruel 
malice, and were intended, in my wicked heart, to injure 
her. Believe this ! It is all I ask of you ! I crave nothing 
for my own sake,” she cried, in desperation, and with an 
agonizing look that could not have been more touching upon 
the face of one at the stake. 

“Mrs. Ludlow,” answered the professor, now under the 
.deepest embarrassment, “you are unjust to yourself.” 

“No, no!” she cried. “How pitifully our sins always 
lind us out at last!” she moaned. “My poor heart writhes 
in suffering for my sins now. It is only such as Janie who 
can not know cruel suffering in this world.” 

“Your friend is not unjust to you, Mrs. Ludlow. I pray 
you, let me soothe with that assurance 1” he said, to quiet her 
self-reproaches. 


208 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“0, I know that!” she answered, impetuously. “ She 
could not be unjust to any one. She does not think ill of 
me, and for that I feel the sting of my own conscience. She 
will not reproach you either, if my treacherous words have 
found lodgment in your heart to impress you wrongly 
against her. No, she can reproach no one ! But I am not 
striving now with such thoughts. I want that you should 
know I spoke falsely against my friend ; and, if you have en- 
tertained a doubt against her because of my words, that you 
banish them, now and forever, as being wholly untrue. 
Nothing less than this will satisfy me.” 

“ Then you may be satisfied,” answered the professor, 
with an assuring smile. 

“Would you thus say that you were not hurt by my 
cruel words?” 

“ O no, not that!” 

“ You must have been deeply wounded ; for I could see 
it then by the change in your looks,” she said, sorrow- 
fully, 

“ Yes, Mrs. Ludlow — deeply wounded. I could not then 
fathom the meaning of your words, and did not dream that 
any one could thus strive to injure another. I carried the 
hurt with me to distant lands; and it was among the soli- 
tudes of the Ural wastes that my heart threw off its re- 
proaches at last, and clung to its faith in the purity of her 
lovely nature, as it had appeared in the brief acquaintance- 
ship of but a few hours. Not she, but another, I was as- 
sured, was untrue to Christian instincts,” he said, sadly. “ I 
met her again last evening, after my long absence, with that 
pure thought in my heart. I could not think of her now in 


STELLA'S STRUGGLE. 


209 


any other light. You may consider my words harsh, hut it 
is the truth you seek, I am assured.” 

“ Your words are not harsh, but are full of tenderness 
and consolation to my suffering senses. Go on, I pray 
you I” 

“As I would shelter her gentle nature from harrowing 
reproaches, so I would now refrain from wounding your 
feelings.” * 

“I am sure of that; but you can not hurt me. Re- 
proaches from your lips are like welcome music to the soul ; 
for they refresh me, and are deserving. If they but have 
the notes of tenderness for her, they are then sweeter than 
all else to me.” 

“ If I have spoken harshly, it is not to wound ; but to 
assure you that your self- accusations and apprehensions for 
Janie’s sake are now beyond the reach of consideration. I 
thus hastened to cut deep into the abscess, to stop its throb- 
bing pain by speaking plainly. Should I strive to make }^ou 
think I did not suffer, it would be to trifle with the subject 
and deceive you. With the knowledge that I did suffer, the 
assurance to you, who now suffer most of all, that Miss 
Allen is unspeakably near to me, will be most satisfying and 
most pleasing.” 

For the first time a lovely smile broke through the dark 
clouds of suffering that had rested on Stella’s face, and she 
was beautiful in the gleam. 

“ I am beginning to feel the touch of happiness again,” 
she exclaimed. “ My heart is lighter now than since you 
came to our retreat.” 

“ So is mine,” he answered, significantly. 

14 


210 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“ O that I could do justice to my sweet friend!” Stella 
cried as if she had not already said enough. “ I could neither 
eat nor sleep until the wrong 1 had done her was righted, 
even though you should hate me. Your hate and contempt 
and reproaches would have cheered my heart, if only you 
could be made to think of the innocent one in her true light. 
She is an angel of purity, and is as unconscious of self as 
the warm sunrays in their life-giving influences,” 

Professor Wentworth had been impressed by the morn- 
ing defense of the one, that evil might be condoned; and 
now he was still more deeply impressed by the love of the 
other, who would spare herself nothing that justice should 
be done. An exalted respect for womankind came to him 
in the realization. His heart went out towards both in glad 
approval ; and with such a sentiment moving him, he said 
to Stella, with feeling : 

“ Lakeside will henceforth be an oasis in my life. Before 
coming here I was never given so gladdening a view of 
woman’s lovely nature moved by Christian impulses. I am 
glad I came, and will go hence happier than when I came. 
1 have much to thank you for, Mrs. Ludlow.” 

Then Stella sweetly said : 

“And while I have been just to my friend, can I hope for 
your forgiveness ? It is too much to ask for, I know ; for 
the blackness of my character must be sadly repulsive to 
you. Do no injustice to Janie, however! That is all I can 
.ask or desire,” she added, with a pitiful look. 

“ Let me tell you something, Mrs. Ludlow. Your little 
friend made a most beautiful plea this morning in your de- 
fense. From her standpoint you did nothing from your own 


STELLA’S STRUGGLE. 


2.11 


impulses, but was moved by an evil spirit that had controlled 
you. She told me of your old friendship for each other, of 
its severance, of your sorrows, of your reunion, of her deep 
love for you. She pleaded for you, as you have been doing 
for her, that reproaches might not rest upon you. She 
made you appear as a victim that has risen from the bondage 
of chains to the beauty of a heroine. Not more clearly does 
the mirror of the water, lying out there, reflect the beautiful 
sun’s face now than my heart its perfect respect for both of 
you. And let me venture to say just a little more: the sun 
does not more intensely shed its heat from the clear sky 
than my heart its glow of warmth for that lovely little 
woman you have so generously defended. You can not ask 
me, then, if 1 forgiveyou. There is nothing to forgive. In- 
stead, it is in my heart to thank you for the subtle joy that 
is strangely new to it. I am largely in your debt.” 

Stella was overjoyed, and sat silently reveling in the un- 
speakable pleasure she now felt in contrast to the deep sor- 
row and wild torturings that had found birth in her room 
the night before. She sat and wept tears of joy. She felt 
in her heart that she had at last atoned for her evil acts; 
that she had paid back a part of her debt ; that she could 
thus prove to the dear one the sincerity of her intense love. 

Janie awaked at last from sleep, refreshed and strength- 
ened, and, with thought of Stella, started out again in search 
of her. With beautiful face she mingled among her friends 
inquiringly, and wandered in a lonely way about the porches, 
then out over the outspreading lawn among the benches and 
chairs filled with guests enjoying the gentle breeze that blew 
from the lake, and answered back to many a pleasant word 


212 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


of recognition. She had almost reached the little clump of 
trees that hid her friends from view before discovering them. 
They were intently absorbed in pleasing conversation. The 
hot blood rushed to her face at the sight. Was it for this 
that Stella had evaded her throughout the day? What could 
it mean? 0 no! Her gentle heart reproached her that a 
doubt should now arise. “ The meeting could not have been 
planned in her absence,” she cried to herself. “It could be 
but a natural one, and the absorbing interest only what could 
be expected.” She was happy, even thus, to find her friend, 
though she — he — saw her not now. She hesitated a mo- 
ment, and thought to turn away. But that would look as if 
she mistrusted her friend, and her heart smote her again for 
the suspicion. Instead, she walked quietly toward them, and 
hailed Stella a little way off. 

“Ah, Stella!” she cried, “ I have at last found you!” 

Stella and Professor Wentworth arose together, and she 
caught Janie in her arms with such fervent pressure, and with 
such a shower of smothering kisses, that she was bewildered. 

“Yes,” Stella answered, “you have found me. I confess 
I have been in hiding from you all the day. Professor 
Wentworth will tell you why,” she said, with an open, frank 
look that disarmed Janie’s doubts, and banished every hesi- 
tating thought in the instant. 

The professor then took Janie’s hand as if he had not met 
her before during the day, and his look was so deeply search- 
ing, and the pressure so warm and ardent, that her heart was 
set into a thrill of stormy beating at once. 

“ She has told me more of herself than you did this morn- 
ing, Miss Allen. What you would have hid, she tore the 


STELLA'S STRUGGLE. 


213 


mask away from, and has been pleading for your sake,” ho 
said, eagerly. 

Then the sudden thought came like a flash to Janie’s 
mind that Stella had been wrestling during the night and 
day with the resolve to expose herself, and, in the light of 
truth, to clear her of the reproaches that she feared were 
lurking in his mind. Stella was beautiful to her in the in- 
stant, and in a speechless way she now returned her affec- 
tionate embraces. To the curious eyes about, their loving 
demonstrations were because of their discovery of each 
other. None could know the deep emotions in which the 
three were looking into each other’s hearts now, in which 
purity and sincerity were undisguised. 

“ O, you cruel little woman, that you should, by your 
desertion of me, have made me so lonely and distressed all 
the day! Where have you been all the time?” said Janio, 
with feigned reproach. 

“ Indeed I have had a hard enough time in evading you. 
I had a cruel task to perform that justice required of me. I 
would never have known another happy moment had I 
shrunk from undoing the foul wrong I had once done you, 
Janie. The only opportunity that might ever be offered 
now demanded it. To have told you what was in my heart 
would have been to defeat my firm resolve. You would not 
have suffered me to clear the stain I had made upon your 
character. You would have borne it, as you have always 
done, that I might be sheltered from humiliation. No! I 
knew your tender heart too well to take you into my secret. 
It was a task that I must perform, and could not be denied. 
Professor Wentworth can say if I spared myself in my 


214 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


effort to clear you of the taint that does not belong to 
you.” 

“She was not less noble in her defense of you, Miss 
Allen, than you were of her this morning; and that is say- 
ing very much — much more than so many words imply.” 

“And that was the sorrow you carried to your Maker 
last night?” said Janie; “ for you have kept nothing from 
me heretofore.” 

“ Yes, it was that. I asked for strength to do my duty. 
When Professor Wentworth said, last night, that he could 
not remain longer than the Sabbath, I suddenly realized 
that but. little time was left me in which to atone for the 
past. The intensely eager desire to be true to you, then 
racked me with nervous agitation ; and I am scarcely re- 
covered from it now.” 

“Poor little woman!” answered Janie. “You have 
strangely agitated me during the past hours; but you have 
now cleared away all fears, and demonstrated a loveliness 
of character that I have always thought belonged to you 
justly. You are dearer than ever to me in the proving, 
if that be possible.” 

The sun was slowly approaching the western horizon 
now. Perhaps two hours more of the daylight, and twilight 
would remain, in which to paint its lovely colors upon the sky 
and water. Already it was spreading its soft, golden tints 
upon the misty islands in the distance, and scattering broad 
bands of yellow upon the still, mirror-like lake. It was an 
ethereal splendor, wherein the great disk wrought its 
changing beauties. Softly, tenderly, the colors blended 
and shifted, and merged again into single hues that were 


STELLA’S STRUGGLE. 


215 


more beautiful upon the water, in soft reflections, than 
upon the heavens. 

Slowly the sun sank behind towering masses of clouds, 
that were silvered over, or bathed in metallic bronze, or in- 
flamed with an ominous red, that merged into blackness in 
the lower strata, suggestive of gathering storms. The little 
row-boats that crept over the lake looked as if gliding, with 
their happy burdens, through molten colors, stretching un- 
broken from shore to distant islands. It was a lovely sight— 
a sight granted, seemingly, to certain spots only of the beau- 
tiful earth. In the presence of the impressive effects of the 
color-play, its loveliness seemed to pass from the beautiful 
face of nature to their hearts, and became as a finishing 
touch to banish their disturbing thoughts. 



CHAPTER XIX. 


Among the Islands. 

I T was a hot, breezeless night and an oppressive morning 
that followed the gorgeous color-changes of the evening 
before. There seemed to be no grateful breath in the air, 
either to fan the perspiring face or ripple the motionless 
water of the lake. A misty dimness drew the horizon closo 
about the sleeping islands, and hid their wooded heights be- 
hind a veil. The sky was gorgeous throughout the day 
with great, detached cloud-masses, that hung motionless and 
beautiful in fantastic shapes. Occasionally, as the afternoon 
wore on, some black cumulus mass would send out an echo- 
ing note of thunder from the northern sky, and then drift 
away mysteriously into the vanishing distance. The op- 
pressive heat grew in intensity with the day, and an omi- 
nous silence clung to the face of nature. 

At six o’clock in the evening all the western sky was 
black about the horizon, with skurrying white masses drift- 
ing hither and thither across its forbidding face. The black- 
ness climbed higher and higher into the heavens, with white, 
216 


AMONG THE ISLANDS. 


217 


vivid streaks of lightning dashing athwart its blackness 
earthward, followed by distant, rambling thunder, that 
seemed to echo and re-echo among the clouds. With a 
spectral white line across the shadowy water, that crept 
swiftly nearer and nearer, came the strange rumble of a dis- 
tant noise, that grew momentarily louder and louder. Then, 
in an instant, great trees sank prostrate beneath the resistless 
fury of the tempest; and chairs and benches started of 
themselves into a mad race across the lawn ; and the waters 
of the lake swept over the dock and gate-house, torn into 
foam and shreds ; and blinding torrents of rain dashed in 
sheets past the trembling guests, huddled upon the cast 
porch in dread suspense and awe of the danger and grand- 
eur of the storm. 

Here Janie and Stella and Professor Wentworth stood on 
chairs together, looking over the heads of the trembling 
crowd into the awful presence of nature, moved rather by a 
sense of wondrous fascination than dread or fear. Though 
wet by the dashing rain, they clung to the view until the 
wind had passed, and only the disturbed and restless waves 
breaking over the dock, and rolling thunder reverberating 
through the distant heavens, remained. Until late into the 
night a strange, lurid tint clung to the western sky and water, 
and lent a weird effect to the night. 

But upon the morn every trace of the storm had van- 
ished from the face of nature, and again the beautiful sun- 
light was gilding the dancing leaves and miniature waves 
that tossed, whitecapped, in the water of the lake. A cool 
breeze steadily blew from the west, that chilled the air and 
made light wraps comfortable. On rising in the early morn, 


218 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


all faced the sunlight, and inhaled the refreshing coolness 
into the lungs as a welcome invigorator and preparative for 
the breakfast. There were many happy hearts and cheerful 
faces that clear Saturday morning, and the happiest were 
Janie and Stella. No trace of the tempest that had raged in 
their hearts remained now to sadden their brows ; and they 
were refreshed, as beautiful nature after her storm and life- 
giving rain. The nerve torture, the heart pains, the exciting 
emotions, the mental distress that had lingered but a little 
while before, had all vanished now, as the beat had vanished. 

An excursion among the islands had been arranged for 
the day, and the little steamer was now lying at the dock, 
tossing and chafing at its fastenings. The company was 
composed of congenial spirits from the hotel and cottages. 
At nine o’clock the little boat had received its cargo, and, 
amid the cheers and loving wishes of friends upon the dock, 
they started upon their round of pleasure. At Catawba they 
spent an hour rambling upon its pretty beach, gathering 
shells. At Green Island they loitered beneath forest-trees, 
w’hose leaves had made a soft bed for the treading feet ; or 
gathered specimens of crystal gypsum ; or inspected the light- 
house; or played croquet on the smooth government lawn 
overlooking the lake. 

Then, at the noonday hour, they spread cloths on the 
grass of Eattlesnake Island, beneath the shade of an orchard, 
and ate their lunch in the open air, fanned by a cooling 
breeze. Here they lingered long in happy companionship. 
Then, after making the circuit of the island, they steered for 
Middle Bass. The island was green with vineyards laden 
with clustering bunches of grapes, that later on would fill the 


The little steamer was now lying at the dock, tossing and chafing at its fastenings.” 

— Page 218. 






AMONG THE ISLANDS. 


219 


wine presses, and in little baskets gladden the markets of 
myriad cities. Steamers came and went, and pretty little 
yachts skimmed the water, and an air of life and happiness 
dwelt, that made them loath at last to leave the place. Briefly 
they tarried at Put-in-Bay, where an impression of drunken 
revelry lingered about the groves and streets, everywhere 
defiled by brazen signs of intoxicants for sale. 

The afternoon was drawing rapidly to a close when the 
landing at Ballast was made. On its further side, upon the 
flat rocks of a miniature grotto, paved at its base by a bed of 
white, rounded stones, that the waves had piled there, they 
were to be grouped together for a picture, the lake as a 
background. Many had grown weary with the long day’s 
incessant changes; and, after the walk across the island, 
were glad to rest and linger in silence beneath the shade of 
forest-trees that overspread the romantic spot. 

For the most part, our three friends had been together 
during all the day. They were now sitting on the trunk of 
a decaying tree, quietly looking at the preparations being 
made for the picture on the rocks beneath. Janie arose from^ 
beside her friends and stepped to the edge of the little cliff, 
attracted by a purple flower that was almost hid among the 
weeds. She w T as lost, in the interest for the new flower, to 
the further acts of her companions. She had secured one of 
the coveted flowers; but farther down, another stock was 
seen more perfect in character. Taking hold of a slender, 
projecting branch of a tree for support, she leaned far over 
to reach it. The branch broke as she bore her weight upon 
it, and in an instant she was precipitated to the bottom, 
bruised and stunned. 


220 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


With a feeling of horror, Professor Wentworth sprang to 
the edge and down the ragged rocks, and stood over her in 
speechless pity. He gently lifted her limp form in his 
strong arms, and swiftly climbed the jagged rocks, and bore 
her through the excited groups to a cottage near at hand, 
and tenderly laid her upon a lounge, still unconscious. 
Never for a moment did his intense gaze leave her death- 
like face as he carried her helpless before him. In the sus- 
pense of his heart a sudden thought came, with the force of 
a blow, that thrilled his strong manhood and made his frame 
tremble. Until her eyes opened again to look into his glad 
face, the thought repeated itself with growing pain, “ 1 can 
not do without her! I can not do without her!” 

She at last responded to their efforts of resuscitation, 
and life came back with a bewitching smile in answer to his 
tender words and the proffered flower, which he had snatched 
from the rocks as he had gathered her to his arms. As she 
now lay silent and languid, she read from his acts the secret 
his lips had not spoken as yet. A few cruel bruises looked 
from her forehead and face in purple tints, and she was sore 
in body, though not badly hurt. At last, with firm resolu- 
tion, she arose, and taking the arm of the professor on one 
hand, and that of Stella on the other, slowly returned to the 
little boat. 

The day’s wanderings were over, and the prow of the 
boat was turned homeward, the shades of evening closing 
about them. The only mishap of the day was this painful 
one ; but through its pain came an awaking ecstasy of joy to 
the hearts of Stella and the professor. 

An accident, or sudden sickness, or precipitated calamity, 


AMONG THE ISLANDS. 


221 


many times reveal the true love in which one is held by 
friends. Unsuspected before, the revelation is surprising as 
Avell as pleasing. Janie had not dreamed that she was en- 
deared to all ; or that her fair nature and'lovely character had 
been the theme of praises, that had not reached her ears till now. 

In the unguarded moments of sympathizing impulses, 
much was said to her that, at other times, could not have been 
uttered. They made her heart beat fast and furiously ; and it 
was only when the door of her room had closed, and she and 
Stella were left alone, that she gave way to the tumult of 
her emotions. And Stella clung to her with tender joy as 
they recalled, together, the delicate words and acts of all. 

She lay on the edge of her bed, and Stella sat beside her 
stroking her little hand, as had become a habit when alone 
together. At intervals she gently bathed her bruises with 
an arnica lotion, and soothed by the graceful caresses that 
only a woman can know. The twilight thickened into the 
darkness of night, when a gentle knock at the door divided 
their attentions, and a note was handed to Stella. It was 
from Professor Wentworth, asking after the little invalid in a 
tenderly sympathetic way. 

An answer was returned bj 7 Janie, couched in thankfulness 
for the remembrance, concluding with assurances that the 
night would restore, and the morning find her again as usual. 

Stella lit the light and turned it low, so that only a mel- 
low glow lingered in the shadows about the room. Then 
she busied herself, for a time, in arranging their night-robes 
and preparing for the rest Janie so much required. Deli- 
cately she assisted ber friend, and at last saw her quietly 
lying between the covers in a restful way. They were alone 


222 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


in the dim light, with new and strange cravings tossing 
through their minds. Stella had again, now that all had 
been done, taken her place beside Janie, holding her hand in 
her own as before. Then, in anxious solicitude, she asked : 

“ You are perfectly comfortable now, dear?” 

“Yes, Stella,” Janie answered, with a smile. “Pray 
do no more. I know you must be tired.” 

“And are you sure there is no pain, dear?” 

“Only a slight soreness — that is all. It will be well by 
to-morrow. Do n’t think of it again.” 

Then Stella drew her little hand to her lips, and kissed it 
tenderly. 

“ O, I am so glad,” she exclaimed, “ that everything ended 
as it did to-day, Janie! It would not be wicked to say that 
it was providential, I hope ; but 1 feel it that way somehow.” 

“You speak strangely, Stella,” answered Janie, quickly, 
earnestly looking into her face. “I do think it providential 
that I was not seriously injured; and for that I am grateful 
to the kind Master, who has ever guarded me.” 

“And in still another sense I think it providential, and 
am glad it happened ! Do n’t think by that I am glad you 
were hurt. I am sorry,” and she kissed her soft face nestling 
in the pillow at her side, in attestation of the assurance. 

Janie lay silently, dreamily listening to her rambling 
words. Then she heard Stella say : 

“ You were dead to all about you, and could know noth- 
ing of the devouring look of pain and suffering fastened upon 
you as you were borne from the spot. But other eyes saw 
the plainly written sentiment there that I did ; and for that, 
I say the fall was providential.” 


AMONG THE ISLANDS. 


223 


Stella craved to hear a single word from Janie’s lips in 
reply; hut she still lay silently thinking. 

“I know something of the world,” she continued, “and 
can read deeply the looks of men. Your unsuspecting heart 
and delicate nature can know best the perfume and lovely 
tints and varied forms of flowers that lift your thoughts to 
the untainted beauties of heavenly things. You may live in 
the atmosphere of pure love unsuspectingly — if the words 
be not whispered directly into your ears,” she added. 

A gentle pressure of Stella’s hand, a confining look, and 
a sunny smile were the silent answers to her words of praise. 

Stella paced the floor a moment, and then returned to 
Janie’s side, with a look of unsuppressed eagerness. 

“ I am so restless,” she said, with nervous movements. 
“ My heart cravings seem almost within reach. Too soon 
would I realize the happiness of which I have been dreaming. 
I can not wait! I must see your fair brow crowned with a 
diadem of orange-blossoms, or my heart will never cease its 
mad tumult.” 

Janie reached out and wound her white arm about Stella’s 
neck, and drew her face close to her own, until the two faces 
nestled in the same pillow, touching each other. 

“Let me close your lips, Stella — thus,” Janie whispered, 
as she placed a little hand over Stella’s mouth gently. 

But through the light barrier of her soft prison-bars, 
Stella laughingly continued : 

“Your true, honest, just, loving heart, leaning only to 
things that are beautiful and of good report, must turn at 
last to the loadstone of another pure heart, and lose itself 
in nature’s best estate.” 


224 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


But, before Stella had concluded the sentence, Janie’s 
soft hand had lifted from the lips, and was patting her cheek 
instead, that fairly glowed' in the dim shadow of the lamp- 
light. 

“ I do not know what to think of your words, Stella. 
They bring thoughts that are new to me,” she dreamily 
answered. 

“ They are thoughts that have found an awaking in my 
heart, as your gentle love permeated my grosser nature and 
lilted me from degradation. I saw, on that cold afternoon 
of winter, the love looking from that manly face. You did 
not see it; but it aroused a demon in my heart then, and 
my lips uttered its promptings. I thought that the foul 
work had been done then ; but an overruling Providence 
interposed, and defeated my cruel heartlessness. Now I 
am glad.” 

Stella had risen from the bed; and now, sitting rigidly 
straight and with the look of sadness that had lingered 
about her days of deepest sorrow, quickly said : 

“ But I must not bring up the past again. Its ugly face 
was exorcised long since by your magic of love. It is only 
to recall the knowledge of his love, that looks from out a 
dismal past to the happy present, that I refer to it. As I 
once would have torn that love away from you, now I strive 
with an unspeakable yearning that it may be bound to you. 
Its presence is a joy to my heart. Its attainment will be the 
crowning glory of my sin-burdened life. Your happy state 
will not be like mine, that was abased and made to drink 
deep the dregs of reproach.” 


AMONG THE ISLANDS. 


225 


Then Janie, looking sadly into Stella’s face, said, with a 
voice of pity: 

“ I wish there were no sin in the world, Stella. Then 
there would be no heartaches and misery.” 

“ The contrast of our lives proves that truth. It is a 
truth that applies to all other lives as well. God help us to do 
right!” Stella exclaimed, as if tortured by an avenging pres- 
ence. It was a cry of the soul that had suffered from the 
effects of sin, and that had awaked to the better state of a 
Christian life, guided by Christian impulses. 

“Come, Stella,” Janie now urged, “if you do not turn 
your thoughts into another channel, the day will end in 
sorrow to me.” 

With such an assurance, Stella threw off the sorrowful 
reflections that somehow had irresistibly drifted into their 
happiness. Then she seemed to relax from the tense attitude 
and rigid features of the past few moments, and the old, lov- 
ing ways came back instead. She said, taking Janie’s hand : 

“Let me be your soothsayer to-night, Janie. Let us, for 
the effect, imagine ourselves in the dim light and faint shad- 
ows that linger about us in an isolated cave. I am arrayed 
in a strange costume; my black tresses are hanging about 
my waist ; an unearthly light gleams from my eyes. Here 
is your little palm in my hard and bony hand. Just a mo- 
ment. O, I see! This line is happiness, made strong by 
these little lines of good acts and tender love that run so 
abundantly into it. And here is great riches ; but that will 
have no effect upon your generous nature — the poor and the 
suffering will be the better for that. Here is worldly praise ; 

15 


226 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


and strange, it will not touch the heart, for these lines of 
good desires outweigh human praise. O! here I must stop, 
and study awhile! You are — yes — you are to be wedded; 
and the lines foretell that it will be before the year ends. 
He will be a distinguished man; one of great accomplish- 
ments, and learned in travel. He will love you with the 
great heart of a lovely and loyal nature. Your life to the 
end — ye s, the lines indicate to the end — will be purest hap- 
piness.” 

“O, Stella!” Janie strove to interrupt, but Stella softly 
chided, and declared that interruption would break the spell 
of divination. “ You are a good fortune-teller, I know ; 
but I fear you borrow much from heart desires. 1 think I 
am satisfied with your good wishes now, Stella,” Janie said, 
with misty eyes. 

“All right, dear ; but my light words will be recalled alter 
a while. I will add to the prediction now, that you will not 
then forget your dear friend, though your heart will be sapped 
by the strong tendrils of a deep affection for another.” 

It was a lovely smile that gleamed from the pillow upon 
Stella’s intent face. 

Then Stella arose and kissed Janie’s lips, and with her 
dainty fingers pulled down the lids of her eyes, and bade her 
be still and sleep. 

Soon both lay motionless in the darkness — not sleeping — 
but thinking. Stella’s restless heart- cravings kept her 
awake long after the heavy breathing of Janie indicated 
that she had drifted away into the land of dreams. 



CHAPTER XX. 

The Sabbath. 

I T was the Sabbath, and an undisturbed quiet rested upon 
the beautiful morning. Shut out from the world by the 
closed gates, the day was set apart for meditation.and Chris- 
tian service. The bell, calling to six o’clock prayer at the 
auditorium, was the only sound to break the morning still- 
ness. Even the chattering birds, bathing in sunlight, seemed 
to feel the silent impress ; and the placid lake lay unruffled 
by a wavelet, stretching beyond the vision as a gleaming 
light. No games, or hilarious laughter, or wild romp of chil- 
dren, or screaming whistles, or puffing boats could be heard. 
All was peaceful, restful. Even before the opening of their 
window-shutters to the full sunlight, the quiet of the day 
was felt by Janie and Stella; and their hearts lifted in 
reverence to the God whose presence seemed to linger about 
them in the placid beauty of the morning. 

At the foot of the steps, as the two descended slowly to 
a late breakfast, they were met by the cheerful greeting of 
Professor Wentworth. Janie’s reassuring words made his 

227 


228 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


face still brighter; and the pink of her cheeks turned to 
crimson in the light of his undisguised happiness. He sat 
beside Janie at the breakfast- table. It was his last day of 
loitering pleasure ; for in the early morning he would take 
up his journey again for the far West. His desire to spend 
as much of the day with his friend as possible could not be 
denied. Nor was he sparing of tender words, as he recalled 
the days’ adventures. While thus lingering by the open 
window, through which poured the bright morning sunlight, 
laden with the chatter of birds, the placid restfulness of the 
day filled their hearts with a subdued and undefined pleasure. 

Janie could not attend the morning service. She had 
looked forward to the satisfaction of hearing one whose lec- 
tures had delighted her; but was now consoled in disappoint- 
ment by Stella and the professor, who would not leave her 
alone. As the quickened steps of the anxious throng hast- 
ened to the auditorium, the three sought the shelter of their 
favorite tree, overlooking the lake. From thence their eyes 
wandered out over the broad expanse of motionless water, 
broken, in the distance, by the wooded islands lying like 
sleeping giants in misty haze. There was a beautiful play 
of light and shade upon the surface of the water, resembling 
mysterious movements of unseen agents. Miles away the 
gentle puffs of passing zephyrs would ruffle the surface into 
shadowy ripples. They would dance and sparkle in the 
near view, until the expiring breath of the zephyr would 
smooth the water again into glassy brightness. Their re- 
ceptive hearts were delighted with the gentle play of sun- 
light, soft puffs of air, and the quiet lake that gave all back 
in reflected beauty. 


THE SABBATH. 


229 


In a tender way, Janie at length broke the silence that 
had drawn their delighted senses to the beauties of the scene. 
She said : 

“ The hand that could transfer to the canvas the magic 
effects of sunlight and shadow, the soft tints of sky and 
water, and impress the quiet peacefulness of the morning 
there, would be immortal. I am glad that tho heart is so 
sensitized as to receive the impress, and that we can feel the 
thrill of the emotions it inspires in the mystery of our 
strange organization. Thus we are lifted above material 
surroundings, and presented face to face with the spirit that 
pervades it. I am glad,” she said, with deep feeling, “that 
I can believe that there is a loving God looking through the 
beauties of nature into our hearts, whose presence we can 
feel.” 

“A child of nature,” Professor Wentworth replied ad- 
miringly, “that can, in her sensitive heart, respond to the 
touch of nature’s beauties, as the glowing flower does to the 
sunlight ; and look into the face of the Creator with purity, as 
the flower looks into our enraptured gaze, — can best feel and 
know the Divine presence. We might all feel as you do, 
were our thoughts and desires turned heavenward instead of 
earthward. Would that we were all children of nature alike 
in feeling God’s presence in the heart, instead of torturing 
the reason in vain efforts to banish his presence from crea- 
tion ! The beauties that touch and enthrall are only beau- 
tiful as the great Personal Presence of beauty and purity, 
that has given them being, is recognized. Otherwise all is 
dumb chaos; and the changing seasons, and the mystery of 
life, and the wonders of nature, and the thought and energy 


230 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


in the laws of nature are meaningless. The approving con- 
science, that thrills with delight in good deeds, or that is tor- 
tured with smiting reproaches in evil, would be but mockery.” 

“That is only too true,” responded Stella, with emotion. 
“ My life is a living witness of its truth. It is only since 
recognizing God’s presence in my life that I have felt a satis- 
fying happiness, and that because no smitings of conscience 
now hurt me. Experience has taught me the blessedness of 
a good life, and I do not shrink from the confession.” 

Professor Wentworth suffered pain from Stella’s impul- 
sive testimony. He feared that his words had wrung the 
confession from her, perhaps with heartaches. With emotion 
he exclaimed : 

“Pardon me, Mrs. Ludlow, if I have said anything to 
drag your past into our thoughts. It was but the contrast 
which one fact presented to another that arose to mind.” 

“ But I am not hurt by the allusion,” Stella quickly re- 
plied. “ Bather I am glad, even by my own life-experience, 
to verify your words. I can exult in the truth, which I 
know has changed my life for the better, as it did for poor 
Mary Magdalene.” 

“ Thank you ! I am so glad I did not wound your feel- 
ings!” the professor answered, the look of trouble passing 
from his face. “ Our personal experiences do more than all 
the scientific conjectures of time to disclose the beautiful 
harmony of life guided by moral restraints. Can this great 
principle be meaningless? Why should we feel approved or 
condemned by our acts? What has quickened the con- 
science but the moraflaws resting upon it? Or, why a con- 
science, if not to admonish of a responsibility to a Law- 


THE SABBATH. 


231 


maker out and beyond ourselves? Not one life, but all 
human history has testified that moral laws are necessary 
for happiness, and that their violation has brought sin and 
misery upon humanity. How came such moral laws to be 
associated with human destiny? Could they have orig- 
inated of themselves? Or, is it not more in reason that a 
Great Heart of purity, beating in sympathy with humanity, 
has established them? Their presence can not be denied 
any more than physical laws. Reason rests upon all, like a 
benediction, to bless.” 

Then the professor paused in silent thoughtfulness, while 
« Janie’s surprised look clung to his face with a lingering smile. 

“ Tell me !” she said. “ It is so unusual to find a man of 
science en rapport with the belief of a creative mind in na- 
ture, that I long to know how it is you happen to believe 
what others seem to doubt.” 

“ Possibly one reason, in answer, is, that I no longer think 
of myself in relation to the mysteries of science. At one 
time I felt it was a duty of the scientist to .explain every 
mystery. It finally came to me with force that our hypoth- 
eses were not explanations ; that our theories vanished with 
a little cleaner light or a discovery of a new fact. I assumed, 
at first, that science was able to account, in a materialistic 
way, for every fact; but, while struggling with such a pre- 
sumption, the presence of wisdom and plan and purpose in 
nature everywhere stood in my way. I could not get be- 
hind this specter that bewilders every investigator. I strug- 
gled with it until my reason was exhausted, and cried that 
thought was but the reflection of a thinker. Realizing 
that our knowledge, at best, is confined superficially to a 


232 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


few facts only, and they simply to the operations of law, 
and that no fact in our possession can establish an ultimate 
truth, I felt the littleness of human pretensions and 
the vanity of vapory hypotheses. Then the light be- 
gan to break upon the mystery around me. The plan 
and purpose of laws governing every operation of nature 
had a new meaning. The harmonious movements of great 
systems of worlds ; the wondrous plan of creation, following 
definite and unalterable lines of development; the incompre- 
hensible mystery of human reason and aspirations, assumed 
a beautiful naturalness, under the operations of a Creative 
Mind, that the material substance could not give. When my 
mind at last took firm hold of this belief, I was happy in 
the glorified beauties that everywhere confronted mo, touched 
by the presence of Divinity. The whole created universe 
assumed a new beauty that impressed with a reverential feel- 
ing, and irresistibly pointed to a personal accountability to 
a moral Lawgiver. Now, all this you have doubtless reached 
by intuition, Miss Allen. With me, it was by a slow process 
of reasoning, and by a desperate conflict with the scientific 
methods, into whose skeptical meshes I had become ensnared. 
I am glad,” the professor said, with earnest emphasis, “ that 
I no longer seek for the improbable among the atoms of 
matter; but that reason and human impulse are free to 
recognize the Creative Mind in nature.” 

But Janie’s mind was not thus logical. Her conclusions 
had been reached in a simpler way. It was the dictation of 
a gentle and keenly sensitive, nature, that grasped convic- 
tion through the channel of sentiment, a way open to every 
organization. 


THE SAB BA TH. 


233 


“The spiritual presence can be felt, as well as seen,” she 
answered. “ My faith is a simple one. Lovingly we peruse 
and re-peruse the letters of absent friends, and we know the 
handwriting and tender heart-dictation that looks from the 
page. Lovingly wo can peruse the silent words written 
upon the sky, in the face of nature, in beautiful flowers, in 
strange emotions, and in the complex structures enshrining 
the mystery of life; and the handwriting looks from the 
pages so tenderly that the heart can not deny. We know 
that reason and thought and tenderness and love are written 
over all creation. We can not doubt that Spiritual Presence 
more than the presence of the friend whose letter we so lov- 
ingly peruse.” 

To which the professor replied : 

“ With the vision of a Spiritual Presence, to which you so 
tenderly allude, the edifice of science is transformed ; and 
nature and the world become a shrine, broken into naves 
and transepts and chapels, with the starry firmament its 
roof, and the birds its choristers. It is then that reason 
and the heart combine to exalt our hopes; and science shifts 
the scenes, that glimpses of the Creators presence can be 
recognized.” 

Stella could no longer remain silent. Taking Janie’s 
hand in her own, as if to soften the effect of her words, she 
said : 

“I used to ridicule, in my secret heart, the emotions of 
our little friend, as she would many times lose herself in the 
presence of nature, while walking together along the country 
lanes. I thought her childish, and sometimes roughly called 
her by the names of flowers, meaning to ridicule her moods. 


234 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


1 did not think then how closely her heart beat against the 
great heart that dwells in nature, and that, in her innocence, 
made her in fact a tender child of nature. I was of too 
coarse a mold to feel as she felt. But her gentle nature lov- 
ingly opened the windows of my soul to the beautiful pres- 
ence of all she saw in her delicate refinement. Even I— 1 
who am rough — have been softened by her love and gentle- 
ness : which seemed to touch me as the bright sun-rays laden 
with warmth touches the frozen glacier to melt it. She has 
made me to see the presence of God’s face in nature as cer- 
tainly as I have felt the smitings of his disapprobation in 
my heart.” 

Then, drawing her friend still closer to her, she con- 
tinued : 

“ You see, Janie, I do not speak to wound your feelings, 
but to be just to you. 1 tremble with the thought now, that 
had you been unkind to me in my sore affliction, or turned 
away from me in scorn — as I had expected you to do — I 
would not be here now to listen to the encouraging words 
you both have spoken ; I fear that I should have been in the 
grave, or, worse than that, in degradation. As your gentle 
will has entered into my life to transform it, so I feel that 
the great Divine will, somehow, enters into our hearts to 
prepare them for a glorified hereafter.” 

“ While you thus so gently acknowledge the influence of 
your dear friend, Mrs. Ludlow,” answered the professor, “ I 
am delighted with the word-adornment of your thoughts. 
You refer to a will in nature, tenderly. It seems to me that, 
if there is a will, it must be Divine will; for matter can not 
have a will. We see that sins are punished by moral 


THE SABBATH. 


235 


laws, and that happiness follows obedience to those laws, 
and are therefore subject to that will. These facts 
seem to prove themselves. A great purpose seems to 
look through this responsibility, and points all human 
hopes to the way of happiness here, and for herafter. 
The whole design of creation opens up to us in beauty 
and comfort, if only we will become emancipated from the 
thought of a Godless nature. With that Presence, we can 
look upon the operations of every law as wo look upon a 
piece of machinery, knowing that a thinker is back of it. 
And then, not a beauty lingering upon the clear face of na- 
ture but prefigures the purity and divinity back of it; and 
not a yearning hope that pervades human sorrows or suffer- 
ings but is anchored in the purpose for which moral laws 
were designed. Life is worth living with such assurances; 
and the strife, with which we have to contend against sin 
and temptation, prepares us for the fruits of victory at last.” 

Almost within hearing, the songs of praise ascended 
from the auditorium to the God of whom our friends had 
been talking. The words of wisdom there uttered, pro- 
claiming his love and the beauty of holiness, did not carry 
greater force to the hearts of its hundreds of auditors than 
the simple reflections to the three friends sitting here be- 
neath the shade of a tree, looking into the impressive face 
of beautiful nature. 

This serene day ended, as it began, in beauty. Only the 
setting sun seemed to outrival all its other efforts of color 
effects, to crown its loveliness like a benediction from the 
spirit to which the day had been dedicated. 

But every joy must have an end. The end came in sad- 


236 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


ness to our friends when the parting moments arrived. 
When but a few remained in the hall later in the night, the 
professor offered his last adieu. He was to leave so early 
in the morning that Janie and Stella could not be expected 
to be astir. As Janie’s hand, as once before, lingered in the 
grip of his palm, he said : 

“ I have but one request to ask, after the pleasures of the 
past few days. My happiness has seemed to be but the con- 
tinuance of that night when we were together in the city 
long months ago — there is scarce an interval between. A 
break will occur again now. May I efface this interval also 
by renewing our friendship when I shall have returned to 
Cincinnati? I will look forward to it, with your«permis- 
sion,” he concluded, with a lingering gaze of tenderness. 

Janie’s confiding look, that dwelt in his thoughts with 
unspeakable pleasure long after, assured him that his re- 
quest was granted. 




CHAPTER XXI 


A/r Home;. 


AKESIDE, and its burden of strange experiences and 



1— / unlooked-for awakenings, had become the treasures 
now of memory. It was late September again, and its cool 
evenings were suggestive of approaching winter. Janie and 
Stella were in daily happy intercourse at their home, as of old. 
Life had been purged of its past sorrows, and no lingering 
reproaches remained to disturb its serenity. The white shaft 
stood in the hillside cemetery, touched by the silvery gleam 
of the soft moonlight ; and, in a lonely way, it marked the 
resting-place of the sad wreck beneath. It had lost its 
pow T er, though, to touch the hearts of those who once had 
sorrowed in its presence. The poor mother and wayward 
son lay side by side, and the single shaft was all that re- 
mained to dimly recall the past — the form and the life had 
almost faded from the memory. 

One afternoon of this beautiful month, Stella and Janie 
were sitting together on the porch of the Allen’s. Down 
the street, in a cloud of dust, was seen an approaching car- 
riage, that both instantly recognized did not belong to the 


237 


238 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


village. The high-stepping horses and brilliant equipage 
came swiftly on from the distance. Then it slowed, and 
stopped before their gate, and Janie’s eyes grew sud- 
denly blurred, and her heart beat in tumult against her 
breast, and she stood like affrightened innocence, listening 
to advancing steps along the graveled walk. She seemed to 
hear Stella speak Professor Wentworth’s name as if far 
away. Then she felt the grasp of his hand, that seemed to 
bring her back strangely as from a dream. It was the same 
warm pressure she had felt before, and the same loving gaze 
that had bid her a lingering adieu at Lakeside. Then she 
grew unaccountably calm, with a peacefully contented feel- 
ing, in the sound of his voice. 

After the brief greeting, Stella pleasantly excused herself, 
and left the two alone. They tarried for a while over the mem- 
ories of the quiet lake which they recalled. Then, as these 
faded away, other thoughts drifted in naturally as the shades 
of evening which were softly gathering about them. Here, 
upon the trellised porched, the birds chattering overhead 
among the branches that almost embraced the home, the soft 
air from the valley fanning their faces, and with a quiet calm 
of nature that harmonized with their lovely characters, they 
approached the object for which the professor had sought 
Janie’s presence again. lie said at last: 

“ I have another roving commission — not among the wilds 
of untraveled lands as before — but through the byways of 
Europe. This time,” he said, reaching out to take Janie’s 
unresisting hand, “ I want a companion. You once sym- 
pathized with me because of my companionless condition. 
Have you forgotten it?” 


AT HOME. 


239 


Her gentle shake of the head was answer. She did not 
look into his face, but seemed breathlessly waiting. 

“ Out on the lonely steppes of Central Asia the resolve 
was made never again to stray away from companionship. 
My commission now is a self-imposed one, but upon the con- 
dition that your pity, once expressed, shall take the shape 
of a little wife, and thus go with me.” 

He waited her reply. She sat lost in thought, seemingly 
forgetful of his presence or petition. Then, at length, she 
murmured : 

“You will not go alone?” 

“Ho; never again.” 

Then, with the beautiful face that had won so many 
hearts to her, and that had savingly penetrated the despair 
and abandonment of Stella’s life, she looked upon him and 
gently answered : 

“I will go with you.” 

Later on, Mr. and Mrs. Allen sat with them on the porch ; 
and she, with tears, transferred her beloved daughter to his 
keeping. 

Mrs. Allen could not dim the happiness of the two by 
reference now to the cruel heartache that tortured with the 
realization that she could no longer care for the loved one, 
as she had always done, with life’s devotion. She did not 
doubt the child’s future happiness ; but it was her own sever- 
ance from her presence and clinging dependence that pained. 
But then she thought as a vague consolation, that in time she 
would be called upon by nature to rudely break the tie and 
hide herself beneath the sod. It would only be anticipating 
the time for a little while. 


240 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


Sorrow and happiness thus mingled in the hearts of the 
little group on the porch. But every throb, whether of sor- 
row or happiness, was for the gentle life of the tender child 
of nature, who was now to be transplanted. Her life would 
thus develop and bloom more beautifully, doubtless; as 
native plants do under the developing touches of culti- 
vation. 

Professor Wentworth had scarce driven away, when 
Stella’s hurrying footsteps aroused them. She bounded up 
the steps, and caught Janie in her arms, and clung to her, 
weeping tears of joy. 

“ You need not tell me, Janie,” she cried between her con- 
tinued sobs ; “ I know it all. My poor heart is now at rest. 
O, I feel the joy of an answered prayer ! It is above the 
sweetest pleasures of life. The generous, self-sacrificing heart 
is rewarded. I could never have been truly happy without 
it ! But — I shall lose you !” she chokingly moaned, and 
sank into a chair at Janie’s side almost overcome by ex- 
citement. 

Janie would have sat beside her; but Stella drew her to 
her lap, and, with arms clinging to her waist, held her in 
close embrace. 

Thus they wept together for a time. The first emotion 
of separation had come to them. Then Stella suddenly 
aroused, and eagerly asked, through her tears: 

“ When do you go away, dear?” 

“In the winter-time.” 

“ My heart told me it would be before the end of the year. 
And where?” 

“ I do not know — only that he said to Europe. 


AT HOME. 


241 


With a smile lighting up her tear-stained face, Stella then 
exclaimed : 

“Yet a little longer to cling to you! 0, that is con- 
soling !” 

It was not an infrequent thing, now, to see the lovely 
dapple-brown horses restlessly pawing at the earth in front 
of Janie’s gate. As time went on, the villagers entered into 
the preparation for the coming event as if each one’s own 
daughter was to be the favored bride. Every heart beat in 
loving sympathy as to their own. 

One day, as the time drew near, Janie and Stella sat be- 
fore the blazing fire, talking over their future prospects. 

“ You did not know, you little dear, how wealthy a hus- 
band you w T ere getting,” Stella said ; and then : “ I do n’t be- 
lieve you care for such things.” 

“Why should I?” 

“Why? Because every woman loves riches.” 

“ It did not cross my mind,” Janie answered. 

“ 0, I could see that! But, being more worldly, I found 
it out. I have treasured the secret in my heart, that I might 
give you a glad surprise at last. And now you seemingly 
care least for it.” 

“ But, Stella,” Janie sweetly answered, “my friends, who 
knew him best, spoke only of his good qualities and manly 
traits and Christian sentiments. They won me more than 
riches could have done. The latter I could have mistrusted ; 
but the former, never. Character is better than riches. If 
combined, I grantthat life may be blessed.” 

“ Then yours will surely be blessed ; for his worldly pos- 
sessions are great. I can give you an insight to the facts.” 

16 


242 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“No, no, Stella, dear; let him do that, if he should ever 
care to do so. I am not interested now. Let us rather talk 
of yourself.” 

“ O that is a barren subject,” Stella sadly replied. 

“Not so. Tell me, Stella, have you no heart-desires 
clinging to the future? .Remember 1 I shall never let you 
stray away from my thoughts or my help. You know you 
shall be to me then as now.” 

“I am contented to believe that you will think of me. 
Certainly we can not be as now !” 

“Your sad words sound as if we were to be separated 
forever. That can not be 1” cried Janie. 

“ But you know, Janie, 1 may outlive my parents,” an- 
swered Stella, calmly. “ I can not be a pensioner, dear,” she 
continued, caressingly. “ You have enlarged my heart- 
desires, and touched my life with your own sympathetic 
nature, and I have grown into a lingering desire to do good 
to others, and lift them out of trouble as you have done for 
me. That will be my mission when those I love most now 
shall have passed beyond my reach. There is a band of de- 
voted women whose lives I envy. I shall wear tho deacon- 
ess’s badge, and try to fill her place, with love for God and 
poor humanity.” 

The disclosure of Stella’s future plans was unexpected to 
Janie. It would be a sore trial to lose her companionship; 
but, if such was to be her life, she knew she would follow it 
with zeal, because of her impulsive character. Janie felt, in 
the moment, that she would herself have been fascinated 
with the life. She could resign her to such a calling, but 
not in estrangement. The ties of the present could never 


AT HOME. 


243 


be broken — she still would tenderly care for her. The plans 
of the hour were at last realized ; and Janie lived on, as in 
the past, to bless and encourage her life. 

We would gladly follow in the footsteps of the lovely 
lives that were blessed in good works, and linger with them 
along the pathway of the future ; but our task is already ac- 
complished in beholding the reward of nobility of the heart, 
and here we must separate. 

********* 

Humanity is above the clod. Lovely nature takes hold 
of human reason, and pervades the heart as it can not ma- 
terial substance. Human lives approach so nearly the Cre- 
ative Mind, through moral forces, that consciousness, at times, 
seems to overleap the reason, and disclose the Great Presence 
without its aid. The grosser qualities of nature are softened 
by refined and tender impulses ; the reason willingly re- 
sponds to the conviction of intelligence and plan in the op- 
erations of nature; and the individual becomes a child of 
nature in feeling, seeing, knowing the Heart that beats in 
purity and sympathy through all creation. With the vision 
of the mind and soul awakened to the loveliness of nature, 
an assured Personality becomes as certain as that of an ab- 
sent friend, whose handwriting we know, and whose love 
we realize. Human destiny is strangely linked with this 
Personality, and, through the moral laws by which we are 
bound to it, becomes accountable for all good or evil deeds. 

Ludlow’s life exemplifies the penalty for the violation of 
moral requirements; Janie’s, the noble outgrowth of purity, 
and the observance of such requirements ; Stella’s life assures 
that the penalty for evil may be averted by laying aside the 


244 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


one life, and clinging to the other. The actors upon the stage 
of human life are ever busy in illustrating these truths. 
Human experiences prove that sorrow and degradation fol- 
low sin ; that happiness and elevation of character are the 
inevitable consequences of good actions. It is not by chance 
that such conditions environ human destiny. Where, then, 
has moral law originated? In its origin and results it does 
not differ from physical law, which the human mind can not 
satisfy by the vague claim of necessity. It is necessary that 
mankind, to fill its best estate, should live good lives; for 
moral laws have interwoven upon them penalties for their 
violation. It is natural to look upon a Lawgiver as a per- 
sonality, and thus our accountability to the Maker of moral 
laws becomes assured. In this line of thought we confront 
the Divinity that materialism would deny. 

It is to be hoped that our simple story may help to illus- 
trate the thought, and serve as an application. Janie beheld 
the presence of Divinity in every plant, and tree, and 
meadow, and rippling stream. May we all be children of 
nature, above the thought that dead matter could be the 
author of nature’s beauties and mysteries I Recognizing 
God in nature, naturally inspires the reverential tendency. 
The reverential tendency naturally lifts the heart away from 
sin, and elevates the character; thus making better men and 
women, happier homes and lives, and, through charity, love, 
and pity, a help to each other. 


dllje (£nb. 


AT HOME. 


241 


With a smile lighting up her tear-stained face, Stella then 
exclaimed : 

“Yet a little longer to cling to you! O, that is con- 
soling I” 

It was not an infrequent thing, now, to see the lovely 
dapple-brown horses restlessly pawing at the earth in front 
of Janie’s gate. As time went on, the villagers entered into 
the preparation for the coining event as if each one’s own 
daughter was to be the favored bride. Every heart beat in 
loving sympathy as to their own. 

One day, as the time drew near, Janie and Stella sat be- 
fore the blazing fire, talking over their future prospects. 

“ You did not know, you little dear, how wealthy a hus- 
band you were getting,” Stella said j and then : “ I do n’t be- 
lieve you care for such things.” 

“Why should I?” 

“Why? Because every woman loves riches.” 

“ It did not cross my mind,” Janie answered. 

“ O, I could see that! But, being more worldly, I found 
it out. I have treasured the secret in my heart, that I might 
give you a glad surprise at last. And now you seemingly 
care least for it.” 

“ But, Stella,” Janie sweetly answered, “my friends, who 
knew him best, spoke only of his good qualities and manly 
traits and Christian sentiments. They won me more than 
riches could have done. The latter I could have mistrusted ; 
but the former, never. Character is better than riches. If 
combined, I grant that life may be blessed.” 

“ Then yours will surely be blessed ; for his worldly pos- 
sessions are great. I can give you an insight to the facts.” 

16 


242 


A CHILD OF NATURE. 


“No, no, Stella, dear; let him do that, if he should ever 
care to do so. I am not interested now. Let us rather talk 
of yourself.” 

“ O that is a barren subject,” Stella sadly replied. 

“Not so. Tell me, Stella, have you no heart-desires 
clinging to the future? Eemomberl I shall never let you 
stray away from my thoughts or my help. You know you 
shall be to me then as now.” 

“ I am contented to believe that you will think of me. 
Certainly we can not be as now !” 

“Your sad words sound as if we were to be separated 
forever. That can not be !” cried Janie. 

“ But you know, Janie, 1 may outlive my parents,” an- 
swered Stella, calmly. “ I can not be a pensioner, dear,” she 
continued, caressingly. “You have enlarged my heart- 
desires, and touched my life with your own sympathetic 
nature, and I have grown into a lingering desire to do good 
to others, and lift them out of trouble as you have done for 
me. That will be my mission when those I love most now 
shall have passed beyond my reach. There is a band of de- 
voted women whose lives I envy. I shall wear the deacon- 
ess’s badge, and try to fill her place, with love for God and 
poor humanity.” 

The disclosure of Stella’s future plans was unexpected to 
Janie. It would be a sore trial to lose her companionship; 
but, if such was to be her life, she knew she would follow it 
with zeal, because of her impulsive character. Janie felt, in 
the moment, that she would herself have been fascinated 
with the life. She could resign her to such a calling, but 
not in estrangement. The ties of the present could never 


AT HOME. 


243 


be broken — she still would tenderly care for her. The plans 
of the hour were at last realized ; and Janie lived on, as in 
the past, to bless and encourage her life. 

We would gladly follow in the footsteps of the lovely 
lives that were blessed in good works, and linger with them 
along the pathway of the future ; but our task is already ac- 
complished in beholding the reward of nobility of the heart, 
and here we must separate. 

********* 

Humanity is above the clod. Lovely nature takes hold 
of human reason, and pervades the heart as it can not ma- 
terial substance. Human lives approach so nearly the Cre- 
ative Mind, through moral forces, that consciousness, at times, 
seems to overleap the reason, and disclose the Great Presence 
without its aid. The grosser qualities of nature are softened 
by refined and tender impulses; the reason willingly re- 
sponds to the conviction of intelligence and plan in the op- 
erations of nature; and the individual becomes a child of 
nature in feeling, seeing, knowing the Heart that beats in 
purity and sympathy through all creation. With the vision 
of the mind and soul awakened to the loveliness of nature, 
an assured Personality becomes as certain as that of an ab- 
sent friend, whose handwriting we know, and whose love 
we realize. Human destiny is strangely linked with this 
Personality, and, through the moral laws by which we are 
bound to it, becomes accountable for all good or evil deeds. 

Ludlow’s life exemplifies the penalty for the violation of 
moral requirements; Janie’s, the noble outgrowth of purity, 
and the observance of such requirements ; Stella’s life assures 
that the penalty for evil may be averted by laying aside the 


244 


A CHILD OF NATURE . 


one life, and clinging to the other. The actors upon the stage 
of human life are ever busy in illustrating these truths. 
Human experiences prove that sorrow and degradation fol- 
low sin ; that happiness and elevation of character are the 
inevitable consequences of good actions. It is not by chance 
that such conditions environ human destiny. Where, then, 
has moral law originated? In its origin and results it does 
not differ from physical law, which the human mind can not 
satisfy by the vague claim of necessity. It is necessary that 
mankind, to fill its best estate, should live good lives; for 
moral laws have interwoven upon them penalties for their 
violation. It is natural to look upon a Lawgiver as a per- 
sonality, and thus our accountability to the Maker of moral 
laws becomes assured. In this line of thought we confront 
the Divinity that materialism would deny. 

It is to be hoped that our simple story may help to illus- 
trate the thought, and serve as an application. Janie beheld 
the presence of Divinity in every plant, and tree, and 
meadow, and rippling stream. May we all be children of 
nature, above the thought that dead matter could be the 
author of nature’s beauties and mysteries! Recognizing 
God in nature, naturally inspires the reverential tendency. 
The reverential tendency naturally lifts the heart away from 
sin, and elevates the character; thus making better men and 
women, happier homes and lives, and, through charity, love, 
and pity, a help to each other. 


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